The Deal
by damageddementia
Summary: Phil thought he was drunk. Phil thought it was a stupid joke. But Phil's made a deal with the devil, and Matt Hardy will have to pay for his actions along with him... unless Phil does something about it. ***Permanent Hiatus***
1. Jealousy

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

**Kayfabe's pretty real here. Jeff's the world Heavyweight champion, and Punk has tried to attack him a number of times to 'rid the WWE of him' (like in the storyline). He claims it's because he's a bad role model, but really, he's jealous that Jeff has more popularity and he was treated like a bad guy after Extreme Rules. Phil Brooks is a pretty good guy, but jealousy on Jeff Hardy has twisted a lot of his intentions into something ugly. He wants to get rid of Jeff and finally 'shine like he's meant to'... but Matt's kept him from dealing that career ending blow many times. In fact, now Punk hates Matt as much, if not more, than he hates Jeff. He ends up venting to Adam, who he thinks is drunk, and makes a horrible mistake. Now he and Matt both have to pay the price for his hatred...**

**Warnings: Punk's thoughts are really messed up. I felt like hitting him the whole time I was typing. So here it is: there is a major amount of Hardy bashing in this chapter, courtesy of Punk's thoughts. Really horrible stuff too. He takes on the preachy tone known as the 'I'm Straightedge and thus better than you' tone. So... you've been warned.**

**This is part one.**

* * *

Matt Hardy.

Phil Brooks kicked his car, thinking about the fucking bastard. Everytime he was sure he had Jeff right where he wanted him, everytime he thought he was closer to getting the kid out of his life and getting his title back, his stupid brother would interfere. He wouldn't get his title back... not with Matt in the way.

He never understood the Jeff fascination. There was nothing heroic about him. He was a mediocre wrestler and a more mediocre person; he gave into temptation and vices so easily. Yet the kids crowed for him, people cheered for him, no matter what.

When Matt told him he didn't have to feel guilty about using Money in the Bank on Jeff, secretly, he was glad. He thought Matt would chase him out so that Punk could shine. He should've shined; he used the briefcase the way it was meant to be used. But no, no matter what, everyone always sided with Jeff.

It was his mission to see the little brat gone. And, if Matt wasn't around, he would be able to do it. He grinned, thinking about it... if only Matt wasn't around. A Hardy free WWE would be a better WWE.

He drove to the bar alone; he always came alone. But he came back with at least four passengers, all drunk out of their minds. It was sad, how easily everyone just let their inhibitions loose, when they were supposed to be role models. When there were millions kids watching their every move, wearing their merchandise, shouting out their names... they should watch their every move.

He entered the bar and his eyes immediately fell on Matt and Meth... oops, he meant Jeff Hardy. They were the center of attention, a bunch of people harping over them, sycophants wanting to catch the light off of their heroes. He stared at Matt, who had an arm around his brother.

_He was supposed to get rid of him. Now he's the reason he's still here._

Phil went to the bar, eyes never leaving Matt. Angry as could be, he asked for a Pepsi. Matt ruined everything. Phil's dreams of holding the gold again were gone... of being seen as the hero he was were gone... all because of Matt fucking Hardy.

"Bet you wish you had laser vision." Phil turned around and saw Adam Copeland sitting next to him. Adam was still healing from the surgery, but he was in talks for being a special guest host at RAW, which was probably why he was here.

"What?" Phil snapped, as his Pepsi arrived.

"Laser vision. So you could blow Jeff Hardy's head off." He laughed. "Or is it Matt? I can't really tell."

Another fucking drunk. Was it really too much to ask that they stay fucking sober? But Phil wanted to vent, and Adam offered the opportunity. "The high flying Meth Hardy I could handle fine," Phil said, "It's the stupid brother that keeps getting in my way. What happened to their fucking feud? I thought Matt hated him!"

Adam laughed. "They take out their sibling rivalry shit on each other and then go back to being buddies. You don't know them; I do. They'll fight like beasts and then buy each other beers afterwards."

"Savages," Phil spat. Although he really had no problem with either Hardy until Extreme Rules, and his only real problem with Matt was that he was keeping Phil from seriously injuring Jeff, he truly believed what he was saying. Phil was a man who said what he believed, no matter what.

"I'll toast to that." Adam and Phil toasted, and then they drank their drinks. As soon as they were gone, Adam said, "You must really hate Matt, to be staring at him like that."

"Matt means shit to me." But Phil kept staring at them anyway, looking back, wondering where Matt got off. Making everyone hate him and then just worming his way back into their good graces. Fucking hypocrite.

Adam turned Phil's head to look at him. "Liar."

"Alright, you caught me. Sometimes I wish that fucking bastard would just go away. But it'd be really satisfying to make him see that I'm right, that his brother's a fucking waste of time, and for him to betray him again... so I could get rid of Jeff Hardy for good."

"You really want Matt to go?" Adam asked, "You really want to make him pay for messing with your vendetta against Jeff?"

Phil nodded. "I want him on his knees, exalting me as the fucking savior I am, thanking me for getting rid of that cancer he calls a brother..."

"I could do that for you." Phil stared at Adam, but then he began laughing. He laughed for a long time, before finally speaking.

"You could make the PROUD Matthew Moore Hardy get on his knees, call me his savior, and thank me for kicking his brother out of the WWE?" Phil said, giggling. That's why he didn't drink; it made people complete retards. Matt never admitted he was wrong; well, except with Jeff. But Jeff made everyone trip over their feet to appease him.

Adam grinned wickedly. "Of course I can. With your permission, of course."

Phil laughed again. "That's a mighty big favor, bud." It would be nice if he could, though. For some reason, after he said it, the image of Matt on his knees in front of him flooded his mind. And... he liked it. The idea of Matt, kneeling down, hands clasped, head bowed... he fucking liked it.

"Oh, it wouldn't be a favor. It would be... a trade."

"And what would you want in exchange?" Phil asked.

"Nothing much. Just your soul." This is where Phil laughed again. Now he knew Copeland was beyond shitfaced. There were no such things as souls, and even if they were real, they weren't things you could trade.

"My soul. Hmm... Might as well pay you with sand, buddy," Phil said, patting Adam's shoulder.

"Keep the sand. I want your soul."

"Alright, so let's say I make this deal," Phil said, playing along, "So... how will you make Matt do all those things? How will you make him leave Jeff alone?"

Adam's wicked grin grew. "Oh, don't worry about that. I have... ways." He held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

"What are ways?" Phil asked.

Adam shook his head. "I don't give away all my secrets, Punk. So... do we have a deal?"

"Deal," Phil said sarcastically. He was about to shake his hand, but Adam pulled it away.

"I must warn you. If you shake my hand... this deal is final. You have to be sure this is what you want before you shake. There's no backing out, no changing your mind. I'll take care of Matt, you'll get rid of Jeff, and then you'll have Matt right where you want him. And then your soul is mine. Do we understand?"

He probably wouldn't even remember the bullshit in the morning. "We understand." Phil shook Adam's hand, and said, "So, what are you going to do to Matt?"

"Whatever I see fit," Adam said.

Phil nodded, even though something about the way he said it took the edge off of him. There was something dark about the whole thing... he didn't like it. He looked back and Matt and was almost afraid for the guy... but then reminded himself that the little shit deserved whatever he got. Besides... it wasn't like Adam was actually was going to do anything to him.

Getting publicly drunk, sticking up for his total failure of a brother... Matt deserved any imaginary shit Adam was thinking of.

"Well, it was nice talking to you," Punk said, "See you around, Adam." Adam laughed, and Phil looked at him, confused. "What?" he asked.

"Don't call me Adam. Adam's not here right now. It's Azazel."

_Drunk ass idiot._ Phil laughed and began looking around for the intoxicateds. It was time for the real role model, the real icon to step in and do what he did best... take them home.

Azazel watched him with an amused smirk. He warned Phil, didn't he? But no, he didn't listen. He was so sucked up in his inflated sense of self importance that he didn't realize that Azazel was completely sober. Alcohol didn't effect him.

Azazel was pretty comfortable in Adam's body. Adam had a mean streak all his own, but it was all an act. Adam was a really just a pushover, a real sweetheart. Which meant he was weak enough for Azazel to control, to gain the souls of men and women who had dreams but didn't have the power to make them come true.

He got so many souls in the past from the WWE... all wanting glory one way or another. Mr. Kennedy, Umaga, Brian Kendrick, Candice Michelle... all the recent 'releases' were his souls now. Most of them didn't think beyond their great match; no one asked to bask in the glory. They just wanted to obtain their goals. And once Azazel held up his end of the deal... it was time for them to hold up their's.

He looked over at Matt and grinned. "I'm coming back for you, little Hardy," Azazel grinned. He'd been waiting for a chance to get back at Matt for nine years. The only person to have cheated the devil of his due. And now, that idiot Phil Brooks granted him the perfect opportunity.

Azazel grabbed his refilled glass and began drinking it. Between sips, he sang: "_The devil, take me now/ Before I'm ushered out/ 'Cause you are like me/ But I can bleed/ And I can die/ But I can't hide/ From you_."

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	2. Vulnerable

Jeff woke up with a groan. He put his hand on his head and said, "Damn alcohol."

Matt laughed. "What are the chances that you'll drink again in the next few days?" Jeff claimed to hate alcohol when he had a hangover. Once it wore off, Jeff and the bottle were friends again.

Matt didn't care, though… it was okay to have some fun. It just had to be tempered with self control.

"Shut up, Matt." Jeff went to his bag and dug out some clothes to wear. "Want to go out for breakfast?"

"Shane went over to the Cinnabon for us."

"Gotta love him," Jeff said. There was a knock on the door, and the Hardy boys exchanged glances. "Speak of the devil!" Jeff said happily.

Matt shook his head. "Shane only left a few minutes ago. That can't be him." Matt went to the door and opened it. There stood a woman holding a long, white box.

"Hardy?" she asked.

"Yeah," Matt said.

"For you." She handed him the box and walked away. Matt laughed. Jeff's fans found them where ever they were.

"Baby brother, fan mail!" Matt sang. He brought the box to Jeff, who was clapping.

"Ooh… I love mail!" Jeff said. He opened the box quickly, but then he threw it on the ground. Matt looked in the box and his eyes widened. In the box were dead flowers, with maggots crawling all over them.

"That's disgusting!" Jeff shouted.

"That's clichéd," Matt said, "Really, the flowers are played out. Look, Jeff, don't sweat it. It's probably just someone trying to scare you."

"It didn't work," Jeff said, "I just feel like I'm about to throw up. But that could just be my hangover."

Matt grabbed the box and said, "I'll throw it out. Don't worry." He left with the box, unaware that the present wasn't meant for Jeff. Matt just assumed it was because of Jeff's wide popularity. But if he had found the card, he would've known it was for him.

*********

Phil watched with smug superiority as Jeff shakily lifted weights. That's what the little bastard deserved for getting drunk like he didn't have a job.

He looked over at Matt, who was spotting him. Matt was encouraging him, and Phil just wished that people could see how truly disgusting their beloved Hardy boys really are. Didn't Matt realize people just loved him because he was back to being Jeff's sidekick? No, because he's a fucking idiot.

Jeff got up and said, "You know what? Let's go. I'm tired."

"We just got started!" Matt said, hitting him softly.

"Well, you know how it is with people like him," Phil called out. Matt and Jeff turned to him as he smirked. "Make excuses not to do their jobs, for why they're coming late, for why they have needle marks all down their arms…"

Jeff started to move forward angrily, ready to fight with him, but Matt stopped him. "You know, Brooks, green's a bad color for you. Stick with black," he said.

Phil burned at what Matt was suggesting. Jealous? Of Jeff Hardy? Please. "I'm just trying to give some friendly advice, Matt," Phil said, "Maybe you should heed what I'm saying and embrace the straightedge live style. Then maybe your entire career wouldn't be an ode to mediocrity."

Matt snickered. "Must be nice, to parrot the same shit you say all the time. It makes actual thought unnecessary." Matt led Jeff out of the weight room, and the picture of Matt on his knees filled Phil's mind again. If only…

*******

"I'm tired of him," Jeff said, as they went to get their bags. "Why does he always have to bring up my mistakes?"

Matt put an arm around him. "Ignore him. He won't be the last to not understand you. Just remember… you're champion, not him."

"That's right," Jeff said, "And the Hardy party's just begun!"

Matt laughed and shook his hair. "That's the spirit, Jeffro." Matt looked up- and stopped in his tracks. He covered his nose. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

Jeff's hands flew up to his nose. "Oh, that's… ew." They looked around. Everyone back there was covering their noses and trying to get out of there as fast as possible. Matt and Jeff moved faster to grab their bags, and they noticed that as they got closer, the smell grew stronger.

"Fuck no," Matt said. He grabbed his bag and opened it. The flowers Jeff got earlier were in there, along with the rest of the contents of the trash can Matt threw them in. He instantly knew Jeff's bag was the same and shook his head. He dropped the bag as a maggot tried to crawl up his arm.

"Fucking shit!" Jeff shouted. His voice called over others, who went inside, blocking the putrid smell with shirts and tissues. Phil pushed forward, to see what had Jeff so upset… and he stifled back laughter. Trash for trash.

Jeff turned around and locked eyes with Phil. "You!" he screamed angrily. He began to move over to him, but Matt grabbed him and restrained him. "Let me go, Matt!"

"No. You can't do this. Not here."

"He did it, I know he did…"

"No you don't." Matt said. "You don't know anything, neither do I, and how are you going to explain this to Vince? I beat him up _on a hunch?_"

"Matt, who else could it be?" Jeff asked angrily, "Who else would stoop so low…"

"Jeff," Matt said sternly. "We'll just report this, and we'll let Vince take care of it, okay?"

"That's not good enough," Jeff snapped, "The bastard deserves to hurt for what-"

"Jeff, let's go," Matt said. He led his brother out of the room, and then he looked back at Phil. "This better not be you, Brooks, or you'll have to answer to me."

When they were gone, Phil let out a giggle. Maybe there was someone else out there who knew exactly what he needed to feel better. And it felt like karmic retribution, for the Hardys to get all of that.

As Phil walked back in, he saw Adam leaning against the wall. He wasn't working out, just smiling smugly. "You know, Punk," Adam said, "It's never nice to throw out a gift. I just thought I'd return it to them."

"You did that?" Phil asked, impressed.

"Did you forget our deal already?" Adam asked innocently before he left. Punk shook his head. Although he didn't expect Adam to remember it, what just happened was too funny to overlook. He had to remember to thank Adam later.

***********

It was dismissed as a prank and Vince paid for anything that was damaged beyond repair. He was sure that it was just someone- cough*Phil*cough- who wanted to psych out Jeff before Smackdown.

Then, on Smackdown, Matt and Jeff's ring uniforms were shredded, so Matt had to borrow a pair of tights while Jeff put on his extra uniform. Jeff was positive that Phil was behind this, but Matt wasn't so sure. It wasn't the smug, soap box superstar's style.

"Then who else?" Jeff asked.

"I don't know. But it's not Phil," Matt said.

"How could you be so sure?"

"How could you be so sure it's him?"

"Because he's been trying to get rid of me for a long time, and he sees this as another chance!" Jeff sighed. "Don't you see? He's realizing how much of a fucking failure he is and now he's playing dirty."

"I mean it, Jeff. It's not his style." Matt slapped his back. "Come on; get ready for your match. Even if it is Phil, you can't show him that he's getting to you. You have to show him that he's not going to punk you."

As Matt and Jeff left, Azazel watched with interest. Of course they thought it was all for Jeff. After all, when it came to Matt, it was always about Jeff. And that's how they crossed paths in the first place.

Oh, but he had a present for his little Hardy boy… something that'll show him that it wasn't some stupid prank. And he was going to punk Matt with the next one. Once he was scared enough… then it was time to fulfill his promise to Phil Brooks. And then he could fulfill his promise to Matt Hardy.

***********

After the match, in which Jeff beat Punk after Matt snatched the chair he threatened to use on Jeff from him, Phil marched back to the locker room angrily. But his anger dissipated as soon as he heard a scream.

Phil was pushed into a wall as Matt and Jeff ran past him. Phil looked on, confused, as they ran over and began following.

Maria had her head in Nick's arms, and she was shaking. Melina and Michelle were shaking with open horror. Ron's arms were crossed, and others were all reacting differently to whatever it was.

Jeff pushed past a few people and saw it first. He moved away from the scene and immediately threw up. Matt, worried, began moving toward the scene. Jeff wanted to warn Matt, keep him from seeing it. Matt couldn't see it. But it was too late; Matt had already saw it.

Matt stopped, his blood going cold. He opened his mouth in horror and stared at the spectacle in front of his locker. He reached out, arms shaking, and grabbed the dog that was hanging by a rope tied around his neck. The rope was connected to his locker, and he swallowed a sob… the dog in his hands looked exactly like his Lucas.

"Move out of my fucking way!" Hunter Helmsley, better known as Triple H, pushed people out of the way, Shawn behind him. Hunter stopped and saw Matt holding the dog. "Oh shit… Matt, is that…"

Matt shook his head. "It's a girl…" His voice broke, and Shawn immediately wrapped his arms around him.

"Shawn, take him to see Vince now," Hunter said. He tried to take the dog from Matt, but Matt held on, watching in horror. All he could imagine was his dog, his wonderful, happy, little Lucas, looking exactly like that…

Hunter pulled the dog away and said, "Shawn, now!" Shawn pulled Matt away, and he passed Phil. Phil gulped… he'd never seen Matt look so vulnerable. It didn't look right on him; he was always so strong. And there he was, looking like a lost child.

He couldn't think of anyone else doing it but Adam. But it made no sense. This was going too far. Phil didn't want this at all. Sure, he wanted Matt to pay… but not like this.


	3. Conscience

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Matt stared down at his hands as Shawn explained to Vince what happened. He still couldn't believe it… the dog, so much like his Lucas in every way but gender, hanging off the locker…

"This is not just a prank," Shawn said, "Its way more than that. Someone killed an animal and left the carcass hanging from Matt's locker, a dog that's identical to his pet."

"I understand, Shawn," Vince said softly. He turned to Matt. "Are you sure the flowers were for your brother?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Matt asked. "Of course they were for Jeff…"

_"Hardy?" she asked. _

_"Yeah," Matt answered. _

_"For you."_

Matt shook his head. "She just said Hardy. It could've been for either one of us."

"I think they were for you," Vince said, "I think this whole little mess is about you. Have you made any enemies recently?"

"Not that I know of."

"You mean besides Brooks?" Shawn asked.

"No," Matt said, looking up, "Phil's a lot of things, but he's not… this. He wouldn't do this."

"Are you sure? I could have him investigated…"

"I'm sure," Matt said firmly.

Vince nodded. "Alright. Matt, I'm going to ask you not go anywhere alone. And keep your phone handy; the police might want to speak to you, and I'll call you if that happens. Shawn, get him something to drink; the poor guy's scared to death."

Shawn pulled him up and began walking with him to the car. They didn't talk the whole time, but then Shawn said, "Why are you so quick to stand up for him? Phil's been after your brother- and in extension, you- for the past few weeks. Is it really so hard to believe that he could've done it?"

"You don't understand Phil," Matt said.

"And you do?"

Matt nodded. "I was him before, remember? I hurt Jeff week after week because I was an idiot. Because I couldn't take the fact that everyone loved Jeff more than they loved me. Because I wanted what he had."

Matt looked at Shawn sadly. "But I would never... EVER... do something like that. I would taunt him, hurt him in the ring... but I could never kill another creature just to make him feel bad."

"You can't compare yourself to Phil," Shawn said.

"I can't? I almost ended his career at Wrestlemania, Shawn. I put his neck in a chair... just like Phil does now. Phil and I are the same, and I know... I know, no matter how much of a dick Phil acts like, he wouldn't stoop that low."

"Matt..." Shawn said. Matt smiled softly and pulled away.

"Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy." His face looked anything but, still the picture of utter vulnerability. He pulled out his phone and called his father. "Hello? Hey, Dad. I need you to do me a favor. No, I'm not in trouble... just put the phone by Lucas' mouth, okay? I want to hear him."

Shawn crossed his arms and shook his head. Someone was going to pay for this.

************

Phil marched around the office, looking for Adam. He finally found him getting a Snickers out of the vending machine and fumed. How could he so casually move on with life like he didn't just do something so terrible?

"Adam!" Phil screamed. Adam turned around and rolled his eyes.

"What do you want, pretty boy?" he snapped. Phil moved close to him, close enough to be intimidating.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Phil asked, "How could you do that?"

"Do what?" Adam asked, genuinely confused.

"Don't play dumb! That was going too far and you know it!"

"Make sense or be gone," Adam retorted. He turned to grab his Snickers, but Phil turned him around.

"Why did you put the fucking dog on Matt's locker?"

"Matt? Matt Hardy? What the hell does he have to do with this?"

"Stop fooling around! I know you did it!"

Adam pushed him away. "Look, save the scare tactics for Baby Hardy- I'm not buying your shit. And I was nowhere near Matt, his locker, or a dog anytime today. So turn around and I'll pretend this little incident never happened."

"I'm not an idiot, Adam," Phil said.

"You sure? You fucking seem like one." Adam grabbed his Snickers and walked away. Phil was stunned, unsure of what to do- Adam seemed sincere. But he couldn't be. Phil knew he had to have done it.

**********

Phil was woken up by insistent knocking. He groaned and reached for his clock- it was only four in the morning. He pressed his pillow to his ears, but the knocking got louder and louder. Phil sighed and stood up. He dragged himself to the door and opened it. "Listen, you ass-"

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around Phil's neck and pushed him even further into the room. The door slammed shut and, with the little light the moon offered, Phil recognized his assailant as Adam. But it was different than before. Phil just couldn't put his finger on it. "No, you listen, you little shit," Azazel snapped, "How fucking dare you go up to Adam and try to talk to him about this..."

His hand tightened on Phil's windpipe, cutting off his ability to breathe. "Getting cold feet, Brooks? Well, save it. I told you, didn't I? Don't shake my hand unless you were fucking sure. And you shook my hand."

He dropped Phil, who slumped down. As he tried to regain his breath, Azazel said, "I told you what I did to Matt was my business. You fucking agreed."

"I didn't... agree... murder..."

"Killing a dog isn't murder," Azazel said coldly, "And you did agree. Take some fucking responsibility. I can't mess with humans unless it's part of a deal. And now Matt's a part of a deal. You gave me free reign to do whatever I pleased to get him out of your way so you can get rid of Jeff, and then to make him thank you."

"Humans..." Phil shook his head. "What the fuck are you?"

"Something you don't want to piss off," Azazel answered, "I'm holding back because I don't want Matt to know it's me yet, but I assure you, I can do things that'll curl even your greasy fucking hair. Now stick to your end of the deal or you'll see just how fucking far I'm willing to go!"

Phil stood up and looked him in the eyes. "What... what are you going to do to him?"

"I told you before... MY business. Just know you'll get what you wanted. Now be happy I don't rip out your damn throat."

Azazel walked out of the room and slammed the door emphatically. Phil cringed and sat on the bed. No matter how much he hated Matt, no one deserved to have that thing gunning for them. He had to do something before he decided to make his move on Matt.

Azazel looked at the door and shook his head. Obviously, Phil was going to be a problem. He was going to have to speed up his plans.

**********

Phil followed the Hardy brothers and their friends to a restaurant the next night. It was nearly impossible to track down Matt, with all the people protecting him, but now, he had a chance. He had to tell him everything. He wouldn't let Matt rest on his conscious. Then, Matt could watch his own back, and Phil could go on with his life.

He wouldn't let the bastard's personal issue with Adam's inner demon ruin his next title run.

Matt, Jeff, Shawn, Hunter, and a couple of other guys and girls went inside. Phil followed them and watched as they all sat down at a table. Phil took a deep breath- now or never.

He walked to the table and saw as the eyes fell on him. Different ranges of confusion painted all their faces. He stopped and said, "Matt, I need to talk to you."

Suddenly, Hunter, Jeff, and Shawn were all out of their chairs. "You've got a lot of nerve," Jeff barked.

"We don't want you here," Shawn said, "Be gone."

"Or we'll escort you out," Hunter added menacingly.

Phil crossed his arms. "I was talking to Matt." He looked at him and saw he was still looking confused. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

Hunter grabbed him by the collar. "You've got balls, Brookie, but we'll see how well they heal when I break them. Now go away." He threw him on the ground and Phil stood up, never feeling so insulted. Matt didn't want to listen? Matt didn't have to. Whatever issue he had with Azrael or Azalea or whatever the demon called itself wasn't Phil's problem.

When Phil was gone, Matt stood up. "I'm going to the bar," he said, "Anybody want anything?"

"Vince said you shouldn't go anywhere alone," Shawn said.

"I'm still going to be in the building. I'm just going to the bar. Do you want anything?" They all shook their heads no, and Matt walked to the bar. He ordered a vodka and downed it almost as soon as he got it. The feeling burned his throat, but he didn't care.

He wondered what Phil had to say that was so important. He shook his head. Even if he did want to hear what the brat had to say, his three self-appointed bodyguards would've stopped him. But he wished they allowed HIM to answer, instead of just standing up and talking for him.

It was like he was still a child sometimes. Maybe that was how Jeff felt whenever Matt got into overprotective big brother mode. But knowing Jeff probably hated it as much as Matt did didn't make him any less inclined to be overprotective.

Thinking about it made him shake with the memory. It was almost a decade ago, but it felt like yesterday. No, he couldn't think about it. Refused to think about it. That was behind him now.

Matt ordered another drink and heard his name. He turned around and a smiling woman stood there. "Hey," he said.

"You're Matt Hardy, right?" she asked. He nodded. "I knew it! Oh, can I get an autograph, please?"

While Matt handled the fan, someone sat next to him. He discreetly dropped something in Matt's drink and watched as it dissolved.

************

"Being a nice guy is never enough!" Phil muttered, "No, they all want more. They want you to be a fucking failure who paints his face and ruins his hair and shoots up on enough drugs to bring down an elephant!" He shook his head. "They treat you like a hero, but if you use something you earned on their beloved Jeff Hardy, you're a fucking outcast. You try to do something good, but they all jump down your throat. Well, fuck it! Matt deserves whatever Adam's got planned for him."

The door to the bar opened, and Phil turned. There was Matt, impossibly sloshed and fading, being carried out by a blonde guy wearing a cap. Phil leered closer and realized he recognized the guy- it was Curt Hawkins. He blinked, trying to remember the last time he saw Curt around. He couldn't remember.

Phil walked over and said, "Hey, his brother's inside. You should..."

"Go away," Curt said. He looked up and Phil was shocked- he seemed paler than before. He had almost a ghastly look, and it scared Phil a little.

Phil looked at Matt, who was halfway to unconsciousness. There was no way he got that drunk in the ten minutes Phil was outside. "What happened to him?" Phil asked. He didn't even look right either- it was like white clouds were filling Matt's eyes, pulling him further and further from reality.

"I said go away." Curt started pulling Matt away, but Phil grabbed his arm.

"Look, buddy, you should really bring him to his brother..." Suddenly, he dropped Matt and was on Phil in seconds. He threw a punch, but Phil dodged. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Phil shouted.

"I have orders. Master says to remind him, and then to bring him to Master... Master will kill me if I don't bring him..." Curt kept attacking Phil, and Phil dodged hit after hit until his back pushed against a car.

"Master said don't hurt you, not unless it absolutely necessary... don't make it necessary... I must listen to Master... Master will kill me if I don't bring him..." He was about to punch Phil, but Phil brought his leg back and it connected with Curt's gut. His breath was knocked out of his body, and that gave Phil an opportunity.

He grabbed Curt and pushed him headfirst into the car. Curt groaned, and Phil kept hitting his head against the car until Curt stopped flailing and making any noise. He dropped him and saw that, despite the fact there was a big gash in his head, no blood fell from the wound.

He shuddered. The Master Curt was referring to was probably the demon. Curt probably sold his soul too, and now he was Azazel's. Phil looked at hos goulish Curt looked, and thought about how he would look if the deal went through... like that. Pale and gaunt, looking frightening compared to his present self.

He turned to Matt. Somehow, the haze he was under was 'reminding him'. He wondered what that meant. He lifted him up and began walking to the restaurant- but then he stopped. Azazel would soon know what Phil did, and then he and Matt wouldn't be safe. And he didn't know why, but he felt that Matt didn't stand a chance if he stood and tried to go on with life.

Phil then made a decision. It felt like a mistake, but he had to do it. He had to keep Matt from Azazel. He had to protect himself as well from his wrath.

He pulled Matt to his car and laid him out in the backseat. He then went to the front and began driving.

_If you told me a week ago that I'd be kidnapping Matt Hardy, I would've laughed. But sometimes you've got to do what you've got to do._

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	4. Milkshake

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

_Oh shit... what the hell am I supposed to do..._

Phil looked in the back of his car and saw Matt there, just laying down. He wondered if anyone knew he was gone yet. Would they connect it to him? Would he get arrested for this? How long would he get?

He was regretting it more and more each moment. But what was he supposed to do? This was, in a way, his fault (although apparently Matt had some kind of history with the demon). And was he supposed to let Hawkins drag Matt to the demon's crazy ass? He shivered, thinking about their encounter in his hotel room.

_I can't mess with humans unless it's part of a deal. And now Matt's a part of a deal_. He shook his head, banishing the thought from his head. It wasn't like it was HIS fault the demon and Matt had something going on between them. Matt shouldn't have messed with a demon.

_And I shouldn't have either_. Punk leaned back against the seat and started thinking this out. The first thing he knew was that they couldn't be found. So, next atm he found, he pulled over the rental. Then, he withdrew a shitload of money from his card. They couldn't leave a trail.

Then, Punk dug in Matt's pockets. Everything remotely electronic had to go. He didn't know what on him could be tracked, but he wasn't taking chances. He threw everything out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Then, he proceeded to throw his own stuff on the sidewalk.

He took Matt's wallet and stuffed it into the glove compartment. He didn't know why, but he felt that it was a good idea. Then, he went to the store and quickly brought some food... and, almost last minute, he brought duct tape. He didn't know if it was such an idea, but he figured that, if he were in Matt's shoes, and he woke up to find someone whose been making fun of him and his brother constantly and been trying to end his brother's career had taken him to a strange place... well, he wouldn't sit around to hear that person's reasons.

_Just until Matt understands... _

He found his eyes flicking up to the mirror, looking back at Matt. He truly felt sorry for him; after all, he couldn't imagine how he'd react seeing a dog that looked like his hanging from his locker. He wondered what Matt did to make the demon so angry at him. He made a mental note to ask him.

Phil didn't want to admit it, but he secretly admired Matt before this all started. And he meant everything, including when people started booing him just because he wasn't Jeff Hardy. He had a dedication and a passion that poured out of his body when he wrestled. No matter how little title shots he got, he still gave each match his all- as if it was his last match.

That was before this. Before he stuck up for his brother, the asshole who took everything from Phil. Everything he deserved was just given to Jeff. He got angry again and kept his eyes on the road. He wanted to be as far as possible from the WWE by dawn.

_Matt couldn't even scream when the crack filled the air. All he could do was run into the ring and look at the body, laying there, completely immobile. He remembered someone trying to move the body, but he screamed. __"No! Don't move him!" The hands immediately went to Matt's shoulders._

_"I'll get some help... he's going to be okay. Just stay with him." The sound of running filled his ears, and Matt could care less. He would almost look asleep... if it weren't for the odd, impossible angle of his neck. Matt touched him, barely believing it. He was smiling just a few seconds ago. And now, he looked... gone._

_A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders comfortingly, and Matt began to shake. "He isn't breathing... why isn't he breathing?" he hiccuped._

_"You know why." Matt shook his head._

_"No... he can't... he won't... he promised... it's going to be me and him together, at the top..."_

_"Denial won't help." Matt started sobbing, and the hands squeezed his shoulders firmly. "Don't cry. It doesn't have to be this way. You don't have to lose him."_

_"But... how..." _

_"I can bring him back." Matt turned around and looked up, staring into the eyes. Through his tears, he couldn't see the victorious gleam in them._

_"You can?" he said hesitantly._

_"Yes. I can. But it'll cost you."_

_"Please. You can have... anything you want. Just give him back to me." _

Matt sat up in horror. He wiped his forehead, remembering the worst night of his life, nine years ago. The loud crack filled his ears repeatedly, and he remembered each line, his, Jay's, and Adam's. He held back tears; he already came to terms with what happened that night.

And... of course... what happened in the next few weeks.

He looked over at the other bed, thinking the sight of Jeff would calm him down. But there was only one bed in the room, and it was a lot bigger than the one in his room. _Dammit... leave it to me to get drunk like this... what happened last night?_

Last thing he could remember was Shawn asking him what he wanted to do that night. The rest was a blur.

The door opened and Matt's eyes widened. Phil Brooks walked into the room, holding a full plastic bag. _What the fuck... _"Shit," Phil shook his head, "Well, you were going to wake up sooner or later."

"Where the hell am I, Brooks?" Matt asked.

"Now, Matt, calm down..." he said, stepping closer, holding his hands out.

"What the fuck am I doing here?" Matt shouted, "Where's my brother? What the hell is going on here?"

"You're asking too many questions!" Punk shouted, "Just... shut up for a minute and let me explain."

"Explain what?" Matt looked around again, and a thought dawned on him. "You fucking bastard! You kidnapped me!"

"Matt, look, just calm down and let me explain..." But, suddenly, the older man jumped off the bed and tackled the Straightedge superstar. They began wrestling, hitting each other, the only thought in their minds hurting the other. Finally, Matt untangled from him and ran to the door. Phil reached out for anything he could find- and found a beer bottle in the trash can. He threw it at Matt's head and it hit him, making him crouch down in pain.

_This would make a good straightedge commercial... don't drink beer, the bottle will be used against you. _Phil grabbed Matt and pulled him away from the door, and Matt slammed his head against Phil's. After the shock, Phil pulled Matt's ponytail, making him hiss in pain. Phil then did a leg sweep that sent Matt sprawling to the floor.

He went on top of him and screamed, "Listen to me!" But Matt wasn't in the mood for listening- his fist connected with Phil's jaw. Phil shook from the impact, and did the only thing he could think of- shoot his knee, the one that hurt so many temples with a GTS, into Matt's privates.

Matt's eyes widened. Now, it hurt when anyone kicked a man in the nuts... but not everyone was Phil Brooks. Phil's power came from his legs, and it hurt a lot more than any other time someone hit Matt there. As he groaned in agony, Phil pinned him with his weight, reached for the bag and looked for the duct tape. He tied Matt's arms together and said, "Are you willing to listen?"

"Go to hell!" Matt shouted.

"Listen!" Phil shouted, "I'm on your side!"

"Fuck off, Brooks!"

This wasn't going at all like Phil hoped. He tried to remember the demon's name... he said it once, but he couldn't remember it exactly. He wasn't taking Adam seriously at the time; he thought he was drunk. "Azalea!" he shouted.

Matt's brow furrowed. "What the hell? Are you an idiot?"

"No... um... Aslan! No..."

"Get the fuck off of me!" Matt shouted.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Excuse me?" It sounded like a man. "My wife and I heard screams... is everything alright?"

_Fuck. _Phil had to think fast. Before Matt could scream for help, he kicked Matt in the balls again. Matt shook in pain as Phil ripped Matt's shirt open. Phil moved a hand through his hair to make it more messy, pulled off his shirt, unbuttoned his pants, and walked to the door.

The couple was conservative and white- and their eyes widened at the sight of Phil, looking like he was in the middle of something. He smiled and said, "Sorry. My baby likes it rough- isn't that right, _Milkshake_?"

Matt couldn't speak- he was too busy breathing erratically, trying to ignore the pain in his genitals. He never hated someone as much as he hated Phil right then and there. Where did he get off- kidnapping him, kicking him in the nuts TWICE, and then acting like they were having sex?

The man stared at them, a little sickened, and the wife put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"No problem," Phil said cheerily, to jar the homophobic couple more. They left, and the wife turned to her husband.

"Dear God, there are more and more homosexuals every day, aren't there, darling?"

He shook his head. "All perverts. _My baby likes it a little rough..._"

Phil shook his head. Nothing you could do about it. He closed the door and Matt said, "You're... you... fuck..."

"What's that, _Milkshake_?" Phil asked tauntingly.

"Fuck you." Matt struggled to get himself in an upright position. "What... the fuck... do you want?" he finally spat out.

"Believe it or not, I'm trying to protect you," Punk said.

"Ah, yes. My balls thank you," Matt said, rolling his eyes. He leaned his head against the bed and said, "I'm going to kill you."

"Good luck with that," Punk said. "Look, I didn't want to do that."

"I'm so sure."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping," Punk snapped.

"The fact that I'm TIED UP isn't helping," Matt said.

"God damn it! I should've left you for him to find!" Punk kicked the bed. "I'M TRYING TO HELP YOUR STUPID ASS!"

"NO ONE ASKED FOR YOUR FUCKING HELP!" Matt and Punk stared at each other, animosity in both their eyes. Then, Punk remembered his name.

"Azazel," Punk said, "That was his name."

Matt's eyes widened. "Ah- Azazel?"

"Yeah," Punk spat, "If it weren't for me, you'd be with him right fucking now." The room went quiet again, and Matt shook his head.

"You're fucking lying. He can't touch me. I'm not part of a deal." Matt shook his head. "I don't know how you know that name, but..."

"You are part of a deal," Punk said. Matt looked at him, and he said, "Mine." Matt's eyes widened, and, somehow, more hatred filled them.

"YOU SOLD YOUR SOUL... AND PUT MY FUCKING NAME INTO IT?" Matt shouted.

"I'm sorry!" Punk shouted, "I didn't take it seriously... I thought he was drunk!"

"GREAT FUCKING EXCUSE!" Matt grinded his teeth. "What was worth your soul, Punk? What's your price?"

Punk looked down- suddenly, his reasons seemed really stupid now. "He was going to take you out of the way so I can end Jeff's career and get what I deserve. And then you'd thank me for doing it."

Matt hit his head against the bed. "So fucking stupid! That was your wish? The belt and my brother's career... and my fucking thanks? Are you serious?" He shook his head. "Let me go, Brooks."

"Matt, I'm trying to make things right," Phil said, "Don't you dare preach to me..."

"You'll probably kill me in the process," Matt said, "I'll handle myself. LET ME GO."

Phil shook his head and said, "Sorry, _Milkshake_. You're stuck with me until I find a way to fix this."

"I'll handle myself-"

"Oh, because you did so well last night!" Punk interrupted, "That's why I had to save your fucking ass from Curt Hawkins, of all fucking people..." Phil shook his head. "Get comfortable, Matt. You're not going anywhere." Phil walked to the bathroom, and Matt suppressed a scream. What a little fucking bastard. He was going to get Phil, one way or another.

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	5. Found

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

The day dragged on for the both of them; they just wished it would end. Phil turned on the television and left Matt to watching all day. Matt refused food; he didn't want to find out how Phil would feed him. And forget the bathroom; Matt held it. He and Phil didn't talk at all; Matt would've just snapped at him anyway. When it was finally night time, Phil went over to Matt. "Bed or sofa?" he asked.

"What?"

"Bed or sofa. Which do you want?" He asked.

"Fuck off."

Phil sighed. "Fine. I just thought it'd be better for you to sleep on something." Matt wasn't planning on sleeping at all, actually. In fact, he was planning his escape from the insane bastard sooner or later.

Phil sat on the bed and said, "If you've ever faced Azazel, you'd be as afraid as me." Phil shook his head. "I... I don't know what to do. He's going to hurt you if he catches you."

"That's an understatement," Matt said.

"What does he want with you?" Phil asked.

Matt shook his head. "Don't worry about that."

"I'm involved too now."

"You involved yourself."

Phil decided he had enough and just began staring off. His mind wandered to the bad idea after bad idea that led to this point. And, chances were, unless Matt suddenly did an out of character twist, that Phil would go to jail for this.

He was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

**********

Matt laid down and pretended to be asleep as he waited for Phil to go asleep. And Phil took forever. He watched TV, paced around, bit his nails... until he finally went back on the bed and started muttering about having to find a better way to do this.

Matt almost felt bad for Phil. Phil was trying his best, in this shitty situation. But he didn't have to kidnap Matt. Or kick him in the privates twice. So Matt just watched, suppressing his anger, waiting for his moment.

He almost jumped when he heard a loud snore. He opened his eyes and saw Phil asleep. _Sweet hallelujah. _Matt lifted his bound wrists to his mouth and began chewing at the tape. And, even though Matt was working for his freedom, all he could think about was how awful it tasted.

He only stopped chewing if the snores stopped. But they always began again; Phil was sound asleep. So Matt just concentrated on his task and prayed he'd get out without a hitch.

Once he was done with the tape, he shifted his feet a little, to regain feeling in them, and then got up. He was out of the room as fast as possible, and looked around- he had no idea where he was.

_Where did Phil take us? _Matt looked around at the rooms, searching for the guest services building. As soon as he found it, he ran over and opened the door. "Hello?" he asked.

"Yes?" The night manager looked at him strangely. Matt looked down and blushed; his shirt was still unbuttoned from what Phil did earlier. He buttoned up the buttons quickly and said, "Where are we?"

"Pendleton," the night manager said, "Look, sir, do you need help?"

"Um... yeah. Can I use your phone?"

************

Phil woke up, sitting up from the nightmare. He just dreamed about being like Curt Hawkins, just blindly following Azazel. Calling him Master. Acting like a zombie from a B-rated horror film.

And that's when he noticed Matt was gone.

He jumped up and looked at the tape. He looked at it, shocked. "What is he... half-rat?" Phil hit a hand to his head and wondered how the hell was he going to find Matt_. If I was kidnapped, and I had nothing on me, what would I do?_

_Call the cops_. Phil dismissed the idea immediately. If Matt called them, Phil would've been arrested. Why Matt didn't call the cops was beyond Phil. He thought Matt would get him arrested as soon as possible. Maybe he misjudged Matt. Phil knew, if the shoe was on the other foot, Matt would be in a cell.

But what would Matt do? Phil shook his head, unable to come up with anything. Things just went from bad to way worse.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door. Phil looked out the peephole and saw blond hair. "Who?" he called out.

"Open the door, Brooks. We need to talk."

Phil hesitated, but the guy knew him. He opened the door and there stood Brian Kendrick. Phil looked at him, confused- wasn't Brian released? Brian walked inside and said, "Master thought you'd take it best from me."

Phil's eyes widened; Brian was one of Azazel's? "How did you find us?" Phil asked.

"Here's a tip for next time," Brian said dryly, "Cars are also dead giveaways." Phil slapped his head; how could he be so dumb? Between GPS systems and license plates, cars were easily tracked. "Look, Brooks, you have to come with me. If you go back to the WWE, no harm, no foul. Master swears he'll forget this."

"And let me guess: I have to leave Matt alone," Phil said. Brian nodded.

"Hardy's fate was sealed a decade ago, when he decided to play games with the devil. There's no way around this. If it wasn't your deal, Master would've found a way to work Matt into another." Brian's eyes were as soulless as Curt's, and he had the same look, like he was a ghost. "You don't have to suffer anymore than necessary. Uphold your end of the deal, and you won't even have to think about what will happen to him."

"What will happen to him?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know. I wish I didn't." Brian walked around him. "You can live on top of the world for a little. Just forget about Matt and come with me."

"What if I refuse?" Phil snapped.

Brian shrugged. "Then I have to hurt you. It's not something Master wants, but he's not going to let you get in the way. Make a choice."

**********

Matt heard the phone ringing, which was followed by a gruff, "Hello?"

"Jeff?" Matt asked.

"MATT?" Jeff's voice broke. "Shit, I was worried! Where are you?" Before Matt could answer, a dial tone filled his ears. He turned around and saw Candice Michelle's finger on the receiver.

"Candice?" Matt asked.

"Hi," Candice smiled weakly. You could hardly tell it was her; it was as if all the color and life was drained from her. She stepped forward and took the phone. "You won't be needing that."

"You belong to Azazel, don't you?" Matt asked, feeling dread come over him.

She nodded. "As should you."

"I told him, I didn't know!" Matt grabbed her arm. "Candice, it wasn't my fault."

Candice pulled away. "Doesn't matter." She hung up the phone and turned back to him. "He wants you to come quietly."

"Azazel can't expect me to just come to him," Matt answered, "I... I won't."

She nodded. "You will. And Master knows how you feel, but he'd prefer this make as little a spectacle as possible. He's willing to make a deal with you."

"What kind of deal?" Matt asked, intrigued despite his fear.

"A better one than he gave me. Matt, he promises, if you come quietly and without a fight, he will leave the WWE alone forever. He won't make any more deals with wrestlers. You'll protect everyone you care about from becoming me... or worse."

Matt swallowed. The idea of Azazel around his friends, preying on them when they were weak, haunted him like no other. And the further away he was from Jeff, the better. "What about Phil?" Matt asked.

"What about him?" Candice echoed, "If I remember right, he kidnapped you, he made Jeff's life hell, and he's the reason Master can come after you. Why do you care about him?"

It was a question Matt asked himself, but he couldn't let Phil end up like Candice either. "Can't... can't Azazel let him loose from his deal?"

"That's something you'd have to ask Master himself." Candice held out her hand. "Come with me, Matt. End all of this. When you go over, you'll protect everyone else. Just come."

Matt turned around. "What's he going to do to me?"

"You don't want to know. All you need to know is this; the sooner you give him what he's owed, the quicker it'll go." Candice put her hand on Matt's shoulder. "There's no other way. Just come with me."

****************

Phil made his choice pretty quickly. He went to tackle Brian, but Brian moved out of the way. Phil hit the wall and turned around, a fire in his eyes. "Don't make this hard," Brian said, cracking his knuckles.

"I won't let you hurt Matt because of me," Phil snapped. He kicked Brian, but Brian grabbed his leg and through him to the ground. Phil hit the floor with a thud, pain shooting through his back. He didn't expect Brian to be that strong.

"Listen to me, idiot; Matt made his own bed. You just sped things up a little." Brian watched as Phil rose to his feet. "I'm not like Curt. This won't go easy."

"Who said I liked easy?" Phil grabbed the nearest object, the lamp, and swung it at Brian's head. Brian dodged, and Phil swung again, but Brian dodged just as easily.

"I guess I have to beat your stupid brains in." With that, Brian tackled Phil, making him hit the ground again.

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	6. Trust

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Matt's heart beat against his chest. On the one hand, he could follow Candice, deliver himself to Azazel, and end all this. No more wrestlers would be subjected to his games. But he couldn't trust it. There was something keeping him from completely trusting it. And, of course, he was afraid.

He stepped back and said, "How can I trust you?"

"Of the two of us, only one of us cheated on his deal," Candice said, "Matt, come on. You really have no other choice. Master's going to come after you again and again until he finally gets what he's owed. This way, no fuss, no mess. You come, and your friends will never become Master's prey. Use that brain of yours. There's no other way."

He took another step back, against the table now. "What if Phil comes out looking for me? Will you leave him alone?"

"He's not coming out here," Candice said. She sounded sure, too sure, like there was no way Phil could come out.

"What does that mean?" Matt asked, eyes narrowing.

"It means what it means," Candice said. She sighed. "If you don't understand, Phil sold his soul just for the chance to ruin your brother's life... and yours. Don't delude yourself into thinking he cares about you. He knows that, if Master gets you, he's one step closer to losing his soul."

Matt thought back to earlier. Phil did kidnap him, attack him, bound him, and held him prisoner. But that wasn't all because he'd be one step closer to losing his soul if Matt got caught. All Phil would have to do is not end Jeff's career, and he'd be safe.

If Phil wasn't coming, that meant that something was stopping him. And, even after everything, he couldn't let Phil get hurt. Matt put his hands on the table and felt around until his hand closed over a letter opener.

"Come on," Candice said, "Make your choice!"

Matt rushed forward, grabbing Candice and pushing the letter opener into her side. She gasped as Matt twisted it around. Matt pushed her down onto the ground and ran out. He had to get to Phil.

~_~_~_-_~_~_~

Phil kicked at Brian, but nothing made him budge. Brian just squeezed his hands tighter around Phil's neck, making it hard for him to breathe. Brian picked him up by the neck and slammed his head into the floor.

"Just stop fighting!" Brian shouted.

Then, there was a banging on the door. Brian and Phil looked up, Phil thanking whoever was at the other end. Brian grumbled and opened the door, not expecting to get immediately speared to the ground.

Phil breathed slowly as Matt punched Brian mercilessly. Brian twisted their positions, rolling around towards the dresser, trying to get the upper hand on him, but Matt just kept attacking. They were in a dead lock, but Phil knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. Brian was too strong.

Brian was now on top of Matt, holding him down. Matt never remembered Brian being that strong. "Listen to me," he seethed, "Have you no heart? Are you really going to pass up on the deal?"

"This is what I think of your fucking deal." Matt looked up and saw Phil swing a chair, force crashing it onto Brian's head. Brian's head banged with Matt's, and Matt groaned in agony. He ignored the pain as he pushed Brian's motionless body off of him. Phil held out his hand, and Matt grabbed it, letting him pull him up.

"We have to get out of here," Phil said.

"Tell me something I don't know," Matt said, rubbing his head. Phil grabbed his bag and looked at Brian.

"I never... not outside the WWE..." Phil looked at Matt, "And not like that."

"It's okay," Matt said, "He's... not Brian. Hawkins wasn't Hawkins, and Candice wasn't Candice. They're all Azazel's puppets now."

"Candice?" Phil asked.

"I had my own little run in," Matt admitted.

"How many do you think he has?" Phil asked.

"He's been around for at least nine years," Matt answered, "Who knows." They began to leave, but they stopped when the phone rang. They stared at the phone, and then at each other.

"Is that the Night Manager?" Phil asked.

Matt shook his head. "I have a good idea who it is, though." Matt grabbed the phone, and Phil said, "Are you sure you should be doing that?"

Matt disregarded him and picked up the phone. "You know, that wasn't very nice. Brian and Candice would've been perfectly cordial if you two hadn't been so rough."

Matt shook involuntarily, but kept his voice level. "What do you want?" Phil walked over and put his ear by the phone, straining to hear the conversation.

"Oh, Matt. I was expecting to talk to Phil, but I'll take you happily." Azazel paused for a moment. "But you know what I want."

"Just leave us alone," Matt snapped.

"I can't do that. Phil's bound by his deal, and you... well, things are pretty messed up between us, aren't they?" Azazel laughed. "Look, Matt, this is all your fault, really. I would've moved on from the WWE eventually... if you didn't have a nine year standing debt."

"I owe you nothing," Matt said.

"Contractually, no. But that doesn't change the fact that you do owe me. And so does Phil. All you two are doing is trying my patience. Just give this up and we can make things as easy as possible."

Phil snatched the phone out of Matt's hands and put it to his ear. "Listen you overgrown scrotum-sucker," he snapped, "I don't care what kind of history you have with Matt, but you're not getting anything from him... or from me. All I have to do to make you go away is hang up. So have fun talking to the dial tone, you sick fuck."

Phil hung up the phone and looked at Matt. "Let's go."

~_~_~_-_~_~_~

After digging some stuff out of the car, Matt and Phil took a cab to the nearest bus station. No idea where to go, Phil ordered two tickets to the most obscure place on the destination list.

He and Matt went to one of the restaurants and they got sandwiches. They ate quietly, but something was eating at Phil. He didn't want to ask, but he felt as if he had to know. Finally, he just said, "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"What... what do you owe him?" he asked.

Matt looked down. "Nothing."

"Fine. What does he think you owe him?"

Matt sighed. "It was nine years ago. Jeff and I only just received full time contracts, and we did whatever we could to keep them. We were reckless; we wanted to wow the crowds so we'd never go back to jobbing. We were too reckless..." Matt bit his lip. "We were practicing moves one day. Jeff told me he had this new move he wanted to show me for our upcoming ladder match. He set up the ladder and got on top of it, but something went wrong. Terribly wrong."

Phil gulped, looking at Matt's face, tortured by the memory. "I saw him die. I couldn't even scream, it was stuck in my throat. I ran to him, seeing his neck twisted like that... I hoped beyond hope that somehow, Jeff was still alive. But he was dead, and I couldn't do anything about it. I failed him, I failed my parents... I failed. And that's when Adam and Jay found us. Jay ran to get help, and Adam- I mean Azazel- offered me a deal. My soul for Jeff's life."

Hearing Matt's reason made Phil feel worse. How could he make a deal for something like a belt, while Matt made a deal for his brother's life? "But I didn't completely trust it. What was to stop him from killing Jeff after he got my soul? So, I told him, Jeff had to live a full life. Azazel then said that Jeff would live long enough to have children. Then, I shook his hand."

"So you're in the middle of your own deal?" Phil asked.

Matt shook his head. "There was one thing neither Azazel nor I counted on, and that was the fact that Jeff can't have children."

"What?"

"Apparently, there was a motocross accident," Matt said, not explaining any further, "But facts were, Jeff's physically unable to have children, so Azazel couldn't fulfill his end of the deal to me. My soul was off the hook and Jeff was alive. I didn't know that would happen, but he still blamed me. He said that I knew and that I tricked him. So, he swore he'd get my soul. But since I wasn't involved in a deal, he couldn't touch me. I had Jeff back, alive and healthy, so I wasn't afraid of him. I thought I was safe, and he'd eventually move on, leaving the WWE alone."

"But he didn't," Phil said, "He stood around because he swore he'd get your soul."

Matt nodded. "But he can't get my soul until I make another deal. And that's where your deal comes in. My guess was he was going to find a way to force me to make a deal." Silence fell over them again. Phil kept thinking about what Matt said. Phil was selfish in his deal; Matt was only thinking about Jeff. Phil might've deserved to have his soul taken, but Matt didn't.

"Look," Phil said, "We're, in all likelihood, screwed. But I'm not giving up. I'm still going to try to find a way to get you off the hook, and, hopefully, myself as well. We'll hide until we can find a way to end this."

"We have to try, right?"

"Exactly." Phil then, without thinking, grabbed Matt's hand. Matt looked up and he said, "I know I haven't given you a lot of reason to trust me, but I am on your side. I want to find a way to save you."

"I believe you," Matt said, "And I'm going to try my best for you." Matt squeezed his hand, and then said, "Our bus is here." They stood up and, knowing that nothing ahead was simple, they walked on anyway. Neither man was willing to go down without a fight.

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	7. Annoyed

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

**On a completely unrelated note to _The Deal_, when the hell was that supposedly new episode of Scare Tactics filmed? Apparently, Matt was still the ECW champ. How long does it take to make one of the pranks into a show? Well, sorry for the commercial break. But I'd appreciate an answer, if you know it. Onto the chapter, _Annoyed_:**

Jeff sat in front of the chairman's desk, his head in his hands. When Matt never returned to the table, they all went looking for him, and Shawn called the cops. That morning, Matt's and Phil Brooks' stuff was found on a sidewalk, and someone who looked pretty much like Phil brought stuff in the store in front of it. Including duct tape.

Vince came back in with a couple of officers, who sat across from Jeff. "Any luck?" Jeff asked.

"We're trying, Mr. Hardy, but you'll have to give us time," one of the officers, a blonde man, said, "But we're pretty sure your brother and Mr. Brooks are clear out of this town." Jeff's fists clenched, thinking about what Phil could possibly be doing to his brother. If he was sick enough to hang a dead dog that looked like Lucas from Matt's locker, he couldn't put anything past him.

"Could you tell us about your brother's relationship with Mr. Brooks?" the other officer, a pretty brunette female, asked.

Jeff nodded. "Phil's mad that people love me more, so he began attacking me. Matt's been helping me fend him off."

"So, they're not friends?" The male officer asked.

"Far from it," Jeff answered, "I guess Phil had friends once, but... I think I speak for everyone when I say we're tired of Phil Brooks and his soap box and just about everything else about him."

"Soap box?"

"He liked preaching about how our lifestyles were immoral and how we should all be straightedge like him," Jeff said. The female officer wrote everything down, word for word.

"Why your brother and not you?" the male officer asked.

"What?"

"Well, you said your brother was protecting you from Mr. Brooks. If you were Mr. Brooks' primary target, why did he go after your brother?"

"That's something you'll have to ask him," Jeff said, "When you catch him."

"We'll try our best," he said, "But, if you had to make a guess, why your brother and not you?"

Jeff stared at his hands, shaking his head. All he could think about was Matt, his Matt, his beloved older brother. "Because he knew that, without Matt, without his support, I'd fall easier."

"What does that mean?"

"It means what it means," Jeff stood up and looked them in their faces, looking completely stoic, but something was breaking inside him. "Enough questions; get out there and find him."

"We need as much information as possible," the officer explained gently, "If we're to find your brother, we need as much information on the kidnapper as possible."

"Just... find him," Jeff said, his voice almost begging, "Find him."

**************

Matt's eyes opened slowly as their bus rolled into the small, quiet town in Kansas. Phil sure did pick an obscure place. He looked up and saw that the straightedge superstar laid his head on Matt's shoulder overnight, using him as a pillow. He prodded Phil a little, to wake him up.

"What?" Phil said, sitting up.

"We're here." Matt grinned smugly. "Got comfortable there, huh?"

"Oh shut up," Phil said, stretching, "You got the window seat; I got your fat shoulder." Matt twitched. If there was anything that got to him, it was being called fat. On the internet, some assholes gave him the nickname Fatt Hardy, and it caught on. "Does that bother you?" Phil asked, "You ate that extra doughnut; you pay the price."

"At least I don't look like a rehab runaway," Matt shot back.

"I have never touched..."

"Doesn't change the fact that you look like you want to drop on your knees and suck for some smack," Matt said.

Phil gritted his teeth. _He survives this shit with Azazel, and I never have to see him again. Just remember that. _"Let's just get off. Maybe there's a Cinnabon so you can feed that bottomless pit you call a stomach."

As they walked off the bus, Matt said, "So, what's the plan?"

Phil turned around. "What?"

"You know, the plan," Matt said, "Where do we go here."

"Well, step one, I make up a plan," Phil said, "Then step two, we put said plan into motion. Then step three, the aforementioned plan hopefully succeeds, and we go on with our lives. How does that sound?"

"As good as I'm going to get, I guess." Matt shook his head. "Who am I kidding? We're screwed."

"Hey!" Phil shouted, "Just shut up with that damn negativity. I don't need you bringing me down; shit's bad enough as it is." He took a second to calm down, and then he said, "From this point on, neither of us are allowed to say we're screwed. Okay?"

"Roger that. But can I say one thing?"

"What is it?"

"We're fucked."

"No!" Phil snapped, "We are not screwed, fucked, done, hopeless, or any other shit that means the same thing as we're screwed. Got it?"

"You just said it."

"Said what?"

"You said we're, and then you said screwed," Matt said, "After we just agreed not to put those two words together."

"Matt?"

"Yes, Kurt Cobain?"

"Shut up."

"Roger that." Phil restrained himself from pulling out his hair. Matt had to be the most annoying person on the planet. Of all the people to have somehow cheated their way out of their deal, why did he have to get saddled with Matt?

"Just... shut up, and I'll figure something out," Phil said. The two went to the nearest hotel and brought a room for a few days. Once inside, Phil began thinking about everything he knew.

1) To lose his soul, Azazel had to get Matt, Phil would have to retire Jeff, and Matt would have to thank him.

It depended on three people doing something, so as long as Phil ran, his soul was his and his alone. And if he went back, all he had to do was not retire Jeff. It seemed pretty simple, to him.

2) Azazel didn't want to make a big spectacle.

Maybe it was because he didn't want to be exposed. Maybe he was just lazy and he didn't want to work too hard. But for some reason, Azazel wanted to keep this quiet. So he was going to try and do this as covertly as possible. Maybe they should be surrounded by people, so he couldn't try anything.

3) Azazel had a bunch of people at his disposal.

Who did they have to look out for? Who could they trust? Who _didn't _belong to Azazel? That meant that Phil could only trust himself and Matt. And his trust in Matt was still a little rocky; after everything they've been through, not even his tragic past could fully bury the hatchet between them.

4) Azazel was going to try to get Matt to sell his soul.

That didn't help matters at all, actually. So where did that leave Phil? With nothing to make a plan. Oh, how interesting this was going to be.

CRACK.

Phil turned around and looked at Matt, who was cracking his knuckles. The sound was the single most annoying sound on the planet. At that moment, Phil was about ready to murder Matt. And that would certainly solve all his problems: with Matt dead, he couldn't thank Phil for retiring Jeff, and Azazel couldn't take his soul.

CRACK. Phil glared at Matt, but he didn't seem to notice. He just kept cracking his damn knuckles over and over- "STOP!" Phil hollered.

Matt looked at him, confused, before cracking his knuckles again. "I wasn't doing anything-"

"That! Stop that! Stop cracking your god damned knuckles!"

"I do that when I'm nervous," Matt said, "It helps me relax-"

"But it gives ME a migraine!" Phil snapped, "Stop it! Just- keep your damned hands away from each other."

"Fine," Matt sighed. Phil stood up and began to pace, trying to figure out a plan. Then, he heard another cracking sound. He turned around, to yell at Matt for disobeying him, but he wasn't doing it to his knuckles- he was cracking his neck.

"Son of a bitch!" Phil marched over and grabbed Matt's hands, pulling them away from his jaw. "Don't crack ANYTHING!"

"Whatever, princess. Gosh." Matt tried to pull away, but all that did was throw Phil off balance. He fell on top of Matt and pushed him onto the bed. After a second, Phil realized the position they were in- he was holding Matt's wrists and laying on top of him, legs on opposite sides of his body.

"Um, Phil?" Matt said.

"Not a word," Phil warned, climbing off of him. Matt said nothing, but the awkwardness was there now.

"So," Matt said, finally breaking the silence, "What have you come up with?"

"Jack squat." Phil sat down on the bed, making sure he was as far from Matt as possible. No need to relive the awkwardness. "Maybe if I knew a little more about him..."

"We could do research, you know," Matt said.

"Research?"

"Yeah. We can't be the only people to have crossed the guy. And with all the crap about demons out there, and the occultists and stuff like that, we're bound to find something that could help."

"Research," Phil nodded, "Yeah, research."

"Since I'm guessing neither of us has their laptop on them- or any clothes-" Matt glared at Phil; this was the third day they wore the same clothes, all because Phil had just spur of the moment kidnapped him. "We could go downstairs and use one of the pay computers."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Yes, this isn't the most well thought out of set ups, but it was the best I had. Get over it."

"Let's just go downstairs, Brooks."

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	8. Fables

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Matt and Phil got downstairs as fast as possible, both a little scared of what they'd find when they searched for him. Matt sat at the computer, Phil looking over his shoulder. Matt typed Azazel into google, and they were shocked to see a half man, half goat picture staring back at them on top of the page. "Is that what he looks like in real life?" Phil asked softly.

"I dunno," Matt said. He clicked on a page, written by a Jewish Professor. "According to this guy, they really have no idea. His name was mentioned in Leviticus, and goats were being sacrificed to him. That's about it."

They read on, each picture more grotesque and horrible. Apparently, many people thought that, as God ruled the Heavens and Satan ruled Hell, Azazel had some dominion over the Earth, and the impurities of life. When he took a mortal form, he had no real connection to his powers, which was common among all demons. But apparently, Raphael, an arch angel, trapped him in an Egyptian rock formation.

"Man, I'm not even sure I believe in God," Phil whispered, "But archangels? Demons? This is insane."

"We have no choice but to believe," Matt said, "I mean... I saw Jeff brought back to life. That isn't normal."

"But it makes no sense!" Phil said, "If Azazel was trapped in a rock formation, why is he here, in Adam?"

"I don't know," Matt snapped, "Phil, I'm as confused as you!" Then, he looked down, and saw an upside down pentagram link. He clicked it, and it led them to a Satanist site. In bold letters, it proclaimed: **Do you want to know the _real _Azazel?**

Matt clicked the button, and it lead to a picture of a man, safely leading a goat out of the wilderness. Instead of being this great evil, he brought light to humanity. When Aaron let loose half his goats to starve, if it weren't for Azazel, they'd be dead.

"He gives you whatever you wish, no matter how big," Matt read, "And once you live out your dream, all he asks for is service in his name."

"And all I ask for is a ham sandwich," Phil snorted, "Like anyone would want to become a zombie..."

_I heard that, Brooks._

Matt froze, looking at the words on the screen, right under the text. Phil kept talking, unaware of what was going on. "...and I bet we get _great _benefits..."

"Phil," Matt whispered.

"...and how long do we serve, really...?"

"Phil," Matt said, a little more urgently.

"...I mean, come on..."

"Phil!" Phil stopped and looked at Matt, who was pointing to the words on the street. Phil's eyes widened, and he said, "Im-fucking-possible."

_The word you're looking for is improbable, Brooks. _

The words replaced the old ones, and Phil said, "Let's go."

"Hell yeah," Matt said. He was about to get up, but a new message appeared.

_I gave you a chance, Matt. You're about to learn the price of playing with fire._

"Let's go!" Phil shouted. He grabbed Matt's arm and began pulling him away, wondering where to go. "Let's just get our stuff and get out," he whispered. Matt nodded, and the two of them headed for the door. But before they could escape, a voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Now, that's just _rude." _Phil and Matt turned around, looking at Ken Anderson. "I mean, to leave in the middle of a conversation without so much as a goodbye!" Ken slapped the table. "In fact, that's beyond rude, that's... really disgusting, actually." He dragged his fingers along the keyboard. "A little light reading, eh? Well, I happen to like the story of the two little brunettes. Ever heard it before? No?" He gasped in an exaggerated way, making it sound silly. "Oh, it's a great one! Care to hear it?"

Matt took a step back, trying to pull Phil with him, but he bumped into a big body. He turned around and found himself face to face with Ed Fatu... with Umaga. Umaga grabbed Matt with one arm and Phil with the other, and he carried them to chairs. They tried to fight, punching and kicking, but it was as if he were three Umagas: he wasn't fazed by any of their blows. The feeling of being manhandled so easily was new to both men, and neither had any idea how to counter it. He sat them down forcefully and made them face Ken.

"Now that I have your _attention_..." Ken grinned and sat down in the chair Matt once sat in, staring at his captives. "Once upon a time, there were two pretty little brunettes. One of them played a prank on the devil many years ago, and the devil came back for his naive little quarry. But the other brunette, a nasty little insecure drama queen, decided he wanted to prank the devil too, and he kidnapped the first brunette."

Phil and Matt looked at each other, both wondering if they should make an effort to run. Almost as if he read their minds, Ed put a hand on both their shoulders, squeezing firmly, reminding them just how strong he was. He was too strong, almost inhumanly so. They wanted to look around for any possible escape, but something about the way Ken was telling the twisted fairy tale kept their attentions on him.

"Now, first, the devil sent his weakest, sorriest slave after his naive little nemesis. But the drama queen easily beat him up. Then, he sent two more, a messenger and a weak fighter, given very little gifts. He wanted to give the little brunettes a chance to set things right. Instead, they spat on his olive branch, and hurt the poor, weak messengers.

"So the devil got serious. He sent two very loyal slaves, slaves who were given powers beyond the pretty little brunette's wildest dreams, after them. There were two instructions given: the drama queen _must _be returned to home, so he can fulfill his end of the deal. As for the naive one..." He looked at Matt, smiling serenely. "We're not allowed to hurt you. He wants you to be completely unharmed... so that he could show you the true meaning of pain."

"Ken," Matt implored, getting more and more afraid for himself and for Phil by the minute, "It's me. We're _friends_. Don't do this."

"Oh, poor, _naive_ little Mattie." Ken shook his head. "I have no friends. Only a master." He stood up and walked over to Matt and Phil, looking them both over. "You want to know how the story ends?" He grabbed their knees and shook them, still smiling jovially. Phil yanked his knee away, and Ken glared.

"Oh, that was really rude..." He grabbed Phil's hand and ran a thumb over his knuckles, giving them a contemplative look. Then, he squeezed the hand, making Phil scream. The sound of bones cracking filled the air as Ken squeezed different parts of his palm, making Phil scream louder. "Phil!" Matt tried to get up, to help Phil, but Ed grabbed him and sat him back down.

"Sit," Ed said sternly, almost as if he were talking to a dog. Matt looked ready to fight, but Ed gave him a look that told him his struggles would be pointless, so he just stood in the seat, looking at Phil and Ken with worry and horror.

"See what you make me do?" Ken said, dropping Phil's broken hand. "I didn't want to do that, Philly, I really didn't. But I _hate_ it, I mean, I absolutely _loathe _it, when people are rude. You know? I ask a simple question, have some simple contact to show that I understand you, and you go and just do something like that. Maybe you'll remember your manners next time." Phil cradled his hand, holding back another cry as he studied his mangled hand. His fingers were in disgustingly horrible shapes.

"So, here's how the story ends," Ken said, completely changing the subject. "Master's going to have you both. He's going to break his poor little naive quarry, and make himbeg to serve him, beg to bow at his feet. And as for the other one, well, he's got a life to ruin, a title run, and a thank you coming his way. But soon, he too will become my Master's, spending the rest of his life in his service.

"And the two pretty little brunettes lived... well, I guess happily ever after is not exactly apropos for this fable. But that's the end." Ken grinned. "And the end begins now."

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	9. Allegiance

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Matt's eyes darted from Phil, who was silently sobbing, to Ken, who was still grinning at them. It seemed they reached the end of their rope: their efforts were meaningless. Matt heard Ed say "Stand" and he practically tugged Matt to his feet. Ken held out his hand for Phil to grab like a gentleman, and, instead of putting up a fight like he wanted to, he grabbed Ken's hand and allowed himself to be pulled up standing.

"Matt, you'll be coming with me," Ken said, "Ed's going to watch Punkers here on his way back. We get each other?"

"Ken, come on." Matt searched Ken's eyes, trying to find his old friend in them. "Ken, we've been through so much, Remember that time I accidentally stabbed myself with a hook on that fishing trip, and you helped take it out? I bled so much, but you guys all were so patient... you all bandaged me up, and you called me a baby when I screamed..."

Ken's face grew serious, and he frowned, returning Matt's gaze. "I remember that day perfectly," he said, "I remember losing precious fishing time because Matt had a boo-boo. And then my Master caught me in a weak moment, claiming my soul, all because Matt cheated him out of his prize. Does that sound fair to you, Matt? That you should get to be free while Ed, me, and everyone else are servants?" Matt gulped; this wasn't his fault. There was no way he could've known Azazel would've stood around because of him.

"What about you, Phil?" Ken asked, turning to Phil. "Does that sound fair? You're going to lose your soul soon enough. Should Matt get to be free?" Ken grabbed Phil's other hand, his unharmed hand. gently brushing his thumb over the skin.

Phil's whole body tensed, getting the threat, and he said, "No, it's not fair..."

Ken smiled. "See?" He let go of Phil's hand and said, "Well, let's-"

"Excuse me, I heard a scream, is everything..." The hotel manager ran into the room, nearly out of breath. He saw Matt's fear filled face, Punk's teared expression, and the hard expressions of Ken and Ed, and he immediately jumped to the conclusion that Ken and Ed were harassing Matt and Phil. "I'm calling the cops!" He shouted, marching to the phone on the side of the room, "You two better scat-"

He never saw it coming. Within seconds after picking up the phone and dialing the number, Ed and Ken were on him. Ed snatched the phone and crushed it with his hand while Ken shook his head. "You know, nothing personal," Ken said, slamming him into the wall, "I just _hate_ it when people don't mind their own business."

"Matt!" Phil hissed. Matt whipped around and saw Phil running, immediately getting the picture. He was afraid for the man, but he didn't think Ken and Ed would kill him. And besides, he was afraid of what Azazel had in mind for 'breaking' him.

Ken whirled around, sighing. "Talk about rudeness!" He snapped, "Ed, keep our friend company. I've got two idiots to catch." He ran after them, muttering about rude people and how much he hated them. Ed was so used to his partner's tantrums that they didn't even faze him anymore. Besides, he had a job to do.

******************

The hall Matt and Phil took led to the emergency staircase. They were about to turn around, to get to the exit, but the sound of Ken running put a dash to those plans. Next thing Phil knew, Matt was helping him up the stairs, careful of his broken hand.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked. Phil shook his head.

"It hurts, Matt, it hurts..."

"Just hold out, okay?" Matt whispered. Phil nodded, holding back the bitter tears guaranteed to fall soon. He must've been a sight: with the broken hand, tear streaked face, and the fear filled green eyes, he was a shell of the man he wanted to be. Especially when people could see him.

"Alright. Ollie-ollie-oxen-free!" They heard Ken call out. Matt pulled Phil a little too fast, making him stumble, but they kept running. "First one back gets a prize!"

"Come on, Phil, faster," Matt pushed, unwilling to leave him. He knew he and Phil weren't exactly friends, but he just couldn't leave him.

"I can't..." Ken was getting closer, and Matt knew that, if they didn't do something drastic, he was going to catch up. He saw a window and got sudden inspiration. It was crazy, but it wasn't like they were too very high up- they were on the second floor.

"Jump," Matt said, pushing Phil to the window. Phil didn't argue at all; he was willing to throw caution to the wind, all to escape. He hung off the window for a moment, a little afraid of repercussions, but then he jumped.

It was like flying, being free for just one moment. Phil could almost forget everything in that moment. But then it was over- he hit the ground with a thud arm first, and searing pain shot through him. He screamed as he heard Matt land next to him with a groan.

Matt got up as fast as possible, going to Phil. "Come on," he said, "We have to keep going, come on..." But Phil was sobbing, too stuck in his own pain to even think about escape. Matt looked up and saw Ken at the window, giving them a fake stern face, as if he were disappointed in them. "Phil, we have to go!" Matt said, trying to pull him up. "Phil..."

Suddenly, Matt heard a faint sound. It was growing louder and louder, and he recognized it as the whine of a police siren. Ken looked toward the sound, and he looked like he was about to catch up to them, but instead he left. Matt didn't question why; he was just happy he did.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

*****************

Phil's eyes snapped open, a sterile smell filling his nostrils. He looked around, seeing he was alone in a hospital room. He was pretty comfortable, wearing only the hospital gown and a pair of boxers. There was only a slight pain in his head, but compared to everything else, it was minimal. He stretched and sat up, ready to find some food or something.

"What are you doing?" Phil turned around and saw Matt at the door. The words were slow, each ringing in Phil's ears like a sweet melody. Matt was wearing the green slacks and top of a male nurse, and Phil wanted to do something other than stare, but he couldn't. "You have to get back into bed," he said. Matt walked over to Phil and pushed him down gently. "We wouldn't want you to aggravate your injuries, would we?"

Phil shook his head, unable to stop staring at Matt. He smiled, almost as if he were amused by Phil. "Matt..."

Matt shook his head. "Nurse Hardy, Phillip." Matt grabbed his arm, almost as if he were checking his pulse. "Hmm... that's good, you seem stable..." Phil gulped as Matt began slowly caressing his arm. He didn't know what was going on, but hell if he didn't like it.

"Anything hurt?" Matt asked, brown eyes almost piercing Phil's very soul. "Tell me how I can help you, Phil."

"My head..." Phil said, "It hurts a little..."

"Let me see." Matt's other hand trailed down to the front of Phil's hospital gown, slowly touching his privates through the material. "I think I do feel a little swelling. Maybe I should take care of that." His hand grew a little faster, stroking Phil, making him moan.

Phil didn't mean that head, but any attempts to argue died on his lips as Matt took care of him. Matt's smile grew and he leaned close, lips inches from Phil's. Then, his deep, brown eyes turned soulless, gray like Azazel's servants. Phil stared at him with fear, wondering how Matt made the change so quickly. What happened? But, before Phil could say anything, Matt opened his mouth. Sounding completely hopeless, he said, "I'm going to be his soon, just you wait. He's going to get me, and it'll be all your fault..."

Phil woke up, but his limbs felt like they weren't there; it was hard to move. His broken hand was elevated and wrapped in a cast. It didn't hurt so much as itch now. He looked up and saw an old, wizened doctor smiling at him. "Ah, sir, you're awake!"

"What happened?" Phil asked. Last he remembered, Matt was telling him to jump out the window. Now, he was in the hospital.

"When we found you and your friend, you were in shock," he explained, "We had to sedate you to calm you down." That explained why his limbs felt weightless. "We brought your friend and you here, and I think your hand's healing quite nicely..."

Phil remembered Matt then. He shook the pictures he had of Matt in the nurse's outfit out of his head, both the seductive version and the soulless one, and he asked, "Where is he?"

The doctor pointed to a chair in the corner, and Phil looked at it. Matt was asleep in the chair, looking nothing like the shell in Phil's dream. In fact, he almost looked peaceful. "He stood awake the whole time we operated on your hand," the doctor explained, "And was up for most of the night. You've got a good friend there."

Phil nodded, wondering why Ken and Ed didn't just catch up with them. Why did they let them go off? Were the two men with such amazing strength really afraid of the police and the ambulance?

"Try to get some sleep, okay?" the doctor said. "It'll be best, and we'll do some tests tomorrow..."

Phil didn't want to sleep, but decided that, for some reason, he and Matt were safe here. And he wanted to take advantage of this rare chance for rest. The dream was weird, he'd admit, but it was probably a side effect of the drugs or something. He wasn't even attracted to Matt like that!

He threw the idea out of his head; it was ridiculous and beared no further thought. He knew one thing for certain, and it was that Matt wouldn't fall into Azazel's hands. He wouldn't let it happen. Matt won Phil's full allegiance when he helped him up the stairs, risking his own freedom for Phil's. He owed Matt now, and that wasn't something Phil Brooks took lightly.

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	10. Brother

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Ken bit his lip, hands against the wall, wishing he had something to squeeze. Ed was already punished, but it was his turn, and it was like acid through the system. Once his master, in his true form, unencumbered by Adam's frail humanity, was loose, nothing could stop him.

However, humans couldn't look at Azazel in his true form without dying, so he needed Adam. Ken and Ed weren't human anymore; they were less than human, less important. They were essentially a part of Azazel, nothing more than extensions of his will.

Speaking of Azazel, his hand was against Ken's back, doing absolutely nothing but lying on his spine, but it hurt so much. And if Ken made a sound, the pain would intensify, reminding him he had a job to do, and he failed.

His hand moved, and Ken turned around, putting his back against the wall. He slid down it and stared up in his Master's deep black eyes. "Give us one more chance," he whispered, "We'll get them..."

Azazel shook his head. "No. I should've known this was something I should do myself." Azazel grinned. "I'll let them breathe for a moment. And before they know it... they'll both be mine. Of course, I think one more player should join the show..."

* * *

Matt woke up in the hospital room. He stood up, stretching out his muscles. The past week was beginning to take it's toll on him. He was scared for his life half the time, he was wondering if Jeff was okay, he's been wearing the same pair of clothes since that day at the bar...

"Excuse me?" he looked up and saw a nurse holding two trays of food. "I thought you'd like some..."

"Thanks," Matt said, taking one of the trays. She put the other tray next to Phil's asleep body, and she left, leaving Matt with his thoughts.

What if Azazel found them? What would happen from there? Would he ever be safe again? And if Azazel was going to use Punk to get to him, who he wasn't even really friends with, what was to stop him from going after his brother, or his father? He knew neither of them were part of a deal, but he wasn't either... Azazel caused things to happen.

And what if Jeff was worried about him? Or any of his other friends? Did they think he was hurt, or worse?

He wanted to call Jeff, but he knew what would happen. Jeff would badger Matt until he told him where he was, would joyously tell everyone that he was okay, and then it would get back to Adam, and then Azazel would know. He had to keep Jeff in the dark if he wanted to keep himself and Phil safe.

He looked over at Phil. It wasn't that he actually hated the guy. In fact, they were on pretty good terms with one another before he started messing with Jeff. And, well, Matt had a lot to make up to Jeff. He said stuff he shouldn't have said, hurt Jeff immensely...

"Matt?" Matt looked up and his eyes met Phil's. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking."

"About?" He prodded.

"You. Me. Azazel. Jeff. I'm wondering if things will ever get better."

"They will." Phil groaned, sitting up. "Damn... they use morphine or something?"

"Probably."

Phil shook his head and said, "So... we're still okay? Why didn't they come after us?"

"I don't think Azazel wants to be found out," Matt said, "Maybe that was our mistake. Going to a small, no name town, where no one could find us, anything could happen, and no one would even know. We should go somewhere with people."

"How did he find us?" Phil asked, "We ditched the car, even if he thought of the bus, there was plenty of destinations..."

"Let me put this out there," Matt said, "What if he can track us?"

"No, that's impossible. Isn't it?"

"I wouldn't put anything passed him. If Ken can break your hand in various different places with his hands, and he's just a crony, what the hell can the master do?"

"Well, when you put it like that, I see your point." Phil looked at his hand. "Matt, there has to be something we can do. Don't stress yourself out."

"Can't help it. A guy I considered a great friend of mine just tried to drag me to a guy who was going to torture me. Phil, whose on his side? Am I on his side? Are YOU?"

"You're being ridiculous now," Phil said, smiling.

"Yeah, I know, but my exaggeration does not take away from the fact that anyone we know could've sold their souls. Anyone."

Phil and Matt remained quiet for a while, but then Phil said, "Why don't we go to Chicago?"

"Chicago? Why?"

"Well, I live there, it's a big city, and I have friends there who wouldn't leak it back to the WWE that we're there. Your friends all would call Jeff; mine would keep us safe."

Matt thought for a moment, but then he saw his point. "Alright. As soon as we can, we'll go to Chicago. But I don't have any kind of plans, Phil. I have no idea where to go from here."

"We'll figure it out," Phil answered. Matt decided not to argue further, but he knew, and he hoped Punk knew as well, that there was no way they could run forever. They'd eventually run out of hiding places.

Phil saw Matt's face, and he said, "Hey. Matt." Matt looked up, and he said, "What if... what if I uphold my deal? If I do it quickly enough, I think I could save you..."

"Won't change anything. He'll find another way to come after me," Matt answered, "Plus, you'd have to sacrifice yourself, which is no good, and I can't let you ruin Jeff's life. He loves what he does; I can't let him lose it."

"Matt, this is your soul we're talking about. I think Jeff could manage to lose his job, especially since you saved his life..."

"He can't lose it," Matt said firmly, "And that's final."

"Matt, be reasonable..."

"I am. Jeff's keeping his career." All Matt could think about was the Royal Rumble and everything he did. He had to keep Jeff safe, he had to keep him happy... he had to make up for what he did. If he ever could. Every mistake he made, compounded into those few months; he couldn't imagine ever hurting Jeff again.

He hoped Jeff was okay.

******************

"I hope you called me here to tell me Brooks is in fucking jail and Matt's safe." Jeff said gruffly, crossing his arms. You could tell he wasn't doing too well; his hair was washed out from malcare, his eyes had bags under them from a lack of sleep, and he was wearing the same shirt he wore the day before.

Vince looked at him from behind his desk, sighing. "No, Hardy. Although I think you should take it easy; running yourself into an early grave won't help matters. No, this is about the upcoming pay-per-view."

"You think... are you... damn the fucking pay per view!" Jeff shouted, "I don't give a damn about that! My brother..."

"...is missing, but you still have a job," Vince said calmly, "And you have to fulfill it. We're trying all we can, Hardy."

"Who cares? Besides, Phil is gone, so I don't have an opponent..."

"Actually, we're going to take care of that," Vince said, "We've decided to have an over the top battle royal. You and fourteen challengers. Last man standing's the World Heavyweight Champion."

"What?" Jeff said, eyes widening, "You can't do that..."

"I can. Hardy, we need something that'll catch attention, and we have no time to build a feud. You want to be known as a fighting champion, right? Well, prove it here."

"Vince, this is my first title defense in a pay per view..."

"And you'll do well." Vince stood up. "If you want, you could take the day off. Get some rest. It'll be good for you."

"You mean for you," Jeff snapped. He marched out of the office, refusing to listen to Vince calling his name, and he just ran down the halls to the locker room. Once there, he began trashing the place: denting lockers, throwing down anything that wasn't bolted down, and kicking the benches. He then screamed and sat on the floor, thinking about everything that was going wrong with his life.

"Are you okay?" Jeff looked up and saw Adam above him. His frown grew uglier, the question offending him.

"AmI okay? I'm fucking pissed! The sanctimonious bastard has my brother, I can't sleep, and I'm in a fucking over the top battle royal for my championship!" Jeff punched the locker. "I wish I knew where Matt was. I wish I could just punch Phil in the face. I wish my life had some damn order. And I wish I could hold my title for longer than a damned month!"

Jeff looked down, grinding his teeth. Adam watched him, a small, almost nonexistent smile appearing on his face. It left as soon as it came, and he said, "I could help you."

"Yeah right."

"No, I could. I mean it." Adam sounded so confident that Jeff met his eyes, confused. "Well? Do you want my help or not?"

"How could you help me?"

"Want to find out?" Adam asked. He held out his hand, and Jeff stared at it, wondering what he should do. But the rate things were going, he'd do anything to get his life back on track. Jeff reached up and grabbed Adam's hand; maybe he had the answers Jeff so desperately needed.

**Reviews Deeply Appreciated**


	11. Chicago

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Phil was discharged, and he and Matt got two tickets to Chicago. Phil wanted to bring up his plan again, but he was sure Matt would remain stubborn, so he kept quiet. As for Matt, now that the issue wasn't in front of his face and he wasn't thinking about Jeff, another truth hit him.

Phil offered to sacrifice his own freedom for him. He pretty much told Matt he would let Azazel get his soul to give Matt a chance at keeping his. It was unexpected; he was sure Phil didn't like him.

The ride seemed to go on forever, both men in their own worlds, thinking about what the hell they were going to do. Finally, they arrived at the bustling Chicago bus terminal, and Punk went to a pay phone, quickly dialing a familiar number. After a few rings, he heard a "Hello?"

"Colt?"

"_Punk?" _Scott Colton said, his shock evident, "Man, you have no idea the rumors I've been hearing... glad to hear you're alright."

"What have you been hearing?" Punk asked.

"It's ridiculous."

"Tell me."

"Well- my sources suggest that my good chum Punkers is into killing dogs and kidnapping Hardy boys, but that's ridiculous, right?" Scott waited for an answer, and, finally, Punk said, "I didn't kill any dogs... and it's not as simple as that."

"You actually kidnapped Matt Hardy?"

"Will you quiet down?" Punk snapped, "It's not that simple, okay?"

"Are you trying to get me arrested, Punkie? I could get arrested as a damn accomplice. How could you kidnap someone and then call me?"

"Look, I kidnapped him, but Matt's okay with it... well, it's a LONG story... Colt, we need a place to stay. Can you come pick us up and we could talk this over at your house?"

"Phil," Colt said, each voice dripping with gravity, "I have a life. You can't pull me into some crazy kidnapping scheme."

"Come on, Scotty!" Phil begged, "I'm in trouble, man, and I need your help. Didn't we say through thick and thin? I need you."

"Phil, this is a lot to ask..." Matt stood up and held out his hand, signifying he wanted the phone. Phil put up a finger from his hand in the cast, asking for a moment, but Matt snatched the phone and put it to his ear. "Hi, Colt, right?"

"Whose this?"

"This is Matt." Phil put his hands on his hips, glaring daggers at Matt, but Matt just ignored him. "Look, I understand being skeptical. But I'm here to tell you that Punk hasn't done anything wrong. He didn't kidnap me; I went with him of my own free will. And I'll tell that to any court, so you will not get arrested as an accomplice. But we're both in trouble, and we really need your help. Can you help us?"

Colt laughed a little, before saying, "You and Punk, eh? I thought he hated the Hardy boys. But I bet that's all an act for the cameras."

Matt blushed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What did he say?" Punk asked, but Matt ignored him, unwilling to voice the idea Colt just brought up.

"It's okay, Hardy; your secret's safe with me. Any friend of Punkers is a friend of mine. Tell Punk I'll be over in, like, a half an hour, okay? Be somewhere near the door so I can see you. I'll see you guys soon." The phone hung up, and Phil asked, "What happened?"

"He's going to meet us here in a half an hour," Matt said, putting the phone on the hook.

"Okay, but what did he say that's got you all red?" Phil pushed, grinning, "Wow, Scotty must've said something really funny to get you riled up like this. What'd he say?"

"Nothing," Matt grumbled, trying to move away, but Phil blocked him, boxing him in between the pay phone and his body.

"Come on, Matt, just tell me." Phil got closer, and Matt, getting nervous, put his hands on his neck, the threat obvious. Phil froze and said, "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Matt said. They stared at each other for a while, neither backing down, until Phil sighed and moved away.

"Take your hands off your neck, Hardy," Phil snapped, sitting on the bench. _Matt thinks he's so slick..._ _I'll just ask Colt what he said when he comes_.

***************

Colt came and saw Phil and Matt sitting on a bench near the door. They were sitting apart, but Colt couldn't help but grin- no way these two would run away together if they weren't living in sin. He put his hands to his mouth and shouted out, "Punkie!"

Phil looked up and grinned. "Colt you son of a bitch!" He got up and ran over, throwing his good arm around one of his best friends. Colt laughed a little before returning the hug, practically squeezing Punk, careful for the hand. Matt stood up, thinking about how they looked like brothers. Thinking about his own brother. He knew, if the situation were reversed, he'd be worried sick about Jeff; he hoped Jeff wasn't too worried about him.

Colt pulled away and looked at Matt, a big grin on his face, showing he still remembered their conversation. He walked over and said, "And you're Matt."

"And you're Colt," Matt replied, holding out his hand. Colt grabbed Matt's hand but, instead of shaking it, he pulled him into a snug hug. Matt couldn't move, arms pinned to his sides from the massive hug. "I hope you're taking care of Punk," he whispered, before moving away. He looked Matt over, and it almost felt like meeting the parents. The thought made Matt avert his gaze, and Colt started giggling again. _Yeah, those two are so fucking._

He wrapped his arm around Matt's shoulder, pulling him over to Punk. "So... if you haven't been kidnapped, how come you haven't set the record straight?"

"Long story," Punk said, "We want to keep our location quiet."

"And you called me?" Colt made a face, pretending to be touched. "I feel so special." He put an arm around Punk and continued speaking. "When will I ever get to hear this long story?"

"Soon," Punk promised. He had no idea how to begin to explain this to Colt, but he deserved to hear the truth if he was going to help them.

"I'll hold you to that. Oh, is the hand part of the long story too, or can I ask what happened?"

Punk shook his head. "Just... move forward, Cabana!"

They went to Colt's car, and they drove down to his home. Soon, they were inside his house, the place pretty messy. "Sorry," he said, as Punk stepped over a shirt, "I haven't been home all the time."

"Doesn't excuse being a pig," Phil said, "Hey, do I still have clothes here?"

Colt nodded. "You bet. Check the guest room; you probably have drawers full of them."

Matt looked at Phil pointedly and Phil said, "Oh, can Matt borrow some of your clothes?" Colt didn't ask why, thankfully, just said yes. Matt followed Colt to his room, where he passed him a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "If you want to take a shower first, use the one in my room," Colt said, pointing at the door, "Punk's probably using the other one."

"Thanks," Matt said. He began to head for the bathroom, but Colt grabbed his arm. "What?" Matt asked.

"You didn't do that to his hand, did you?" Colt asked quietly.

Matt shook his head vehemently, almost disgusted by the statement. "I would never do that."

Colt let go. "Then I believe you." He looked reflective for a moment before saying, "He might seem cold and preachy sometimes, but he works hard, and he's one of the most decent guys I know... the most loyal. He keeps his heart close to him because he's afraid of being hurt. If you and he are really serious, than take care of his heart."

"I would never hurt Phil," Matt replied, deciding it best to let him keep thinking they were together rather than running from a demon. Colt clapped a hand to his shoulder and said, "I hope you mean it, Matt."

Colt let Matt go to the shower and, as he stood naked under the running water, all he could think about was Punk offering to sacrifice himself to save him. He knew he wanted to keep Jeff happy, but he also couldn't do go through with Phil's plan because it meant selling out Punk. More importantly, if Punk was willing to sacrifice himself for Matt, then Matt was willing to do the same.

He would never let anyone hurt Phil Brooks. Ever.

**Reviews Deeply Appreciated**


	12. Revelation

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Phil threw on a black shirt and some jeans before walking into the kitchen. Colt turned around and grinned at the sight of his friend. "Want something to drink?" Colt asked, holding up a cup.

"What do you have?"

"What do you think I have?" Colt opened his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Pepsi. Phil grinned and walked over to Colt's cabinet, pulling out a cup. Sometimes, it felt like Phil knew Colt's house better than he knew his own home; he and Colt were so close, they frequently stood over each other's houses. As soon as Colt filled up the cup, he put away the Pepsi and said, "So, let's hear that long story."

Phil stared at his shadow in the cup, wondering what he should say. He wanted to tell Colt the truth, especially since they could be endangering him like they did the hotel clerk back in Kansas, but he didn't know how to say it. And what if Colt didn't believe it? Heck, Phil didn't believe it sometimes. "Well..."

Matt walked into the room and sat next to Phil, putting an arm around his waist. "What are we doing?" Matt asked casually.

"Talking about what brings you two to my neck of the woods," Colt said cheerily. Phil pushed Matt's hand from off his waist, holding back a disgusted grimace, before saying, "Hey, Colt, can you get Matt something to drink?"

"Sure." Once Colt was at the fridge, Punk turned to Matt, quietly hissing, "What are you doing?"

"Do you want to tell him that we're being hunted by a demon?" Matt whispered, "He's better off not knowing."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing. And who are you to say what he's better off knowing?"

"He thinks we're together," Matt said, "So maybe we should let him think we're together. It's better than trying to explain Azazel to him."

"Why the hell would he think we're together? That's fucking ridi-" Colt put the cup in Matt's hands, smiling at them knowingly.

"So, the story?" Colt asked.

Phil forced a grin before saying, "Oh, Matt and I just needed some time to ourselves, a vacation, if you will. Isn't that right, _Milkshake_?" Phil smacked Matt's lower back a little too roughly before pulling him closer, the same false grin still plastered to his face.

Colt started laughing before Matt could reply to Phil. "I knew it! And Matt acted like it was such a big secret."

"Well, I didn't know if he wanted me to tell you," Matt said, "We have been trying to keep things on the hush."

"But Milkshake, it's Colt!" Phil said, "Of course you can tell my best friend." Phil turned to Colt, feeling completely cheesy. "He's so silly sometimes."

"I'll know for next time, babe," Matt said, before linking his fingers together and cracking his knuckles. Phil held back his instinct to kill Matt, keeping the facade up.

"Then why does everyone think Matt's been kidnapped?" Colt asked.

"It was spur of the moment," Matt answered, "We just kind of up and left. After that cruel prank with the dog, I needed to get away, and Phil helped me out."

Colt laughed again before saying, "You two are giving me a sugar rush. So yeah, you guys can hang out here for a while. I'll even let you use the guest room- but I swear, if you guys decide to 'wrestle' in there, you better clean the damned sheets." Colt slapped his cup down on the desk, a eureka look on his face as Pepsi splashed onto the table. "And I'm buying dinner tonight. It's been a long time, Punkers, and we need to catch up. Okay?"

"Sounds great," Punk said.

"Alright!" Punk and Matt quickly finished their drinks before Phil grabbed Matt's arm, telling his Milkshake that they needed to talk in the room. Matt followed, and Phil said, "Babe? You must be crazy, Matt."

"It's no worse than Milkshake, Punk. Let it go."

"No; the mental picture of you, in pain, makes me happy right now, so you are Milkshake," Phil snapped, "If we're going to pull this off, you need to agree to three things. One: we limit the displays of _affection _to hugs and holding hands. That's it. If you dare come any closer, I will kill you."

"Okay, so let me see if I understand," Matt said, "You want us to as much public affection as my aunt and I do."

"It'll be enough, as long as we're sleeping in the same room. Second thing: you can't call me babe."

"Then you can't call me Milkshake," Matt shot back.

"It's different!"

"How is it different?" Matt asked.

"Because it is." Phil crossed his arms. "We both know the pet name's only for the chick."

"And I'M the chick?"

"Yes, Matt, you're the chick, because I sure as hell am not."

"I'm older and bigger," Matt spat.

"So?"

"What do you mean, so? And besides, I'm not the one with girly legs!"

"I DO NOT HAVE GIRLY LEGS," Punk seethed, "You have girly hair."

"Your hair is more feminine than mine, Punk."

"You're the chick, end of story!" Punk crossed his arms. "Which brings me to rule number three-"

"You whine like the chick." Matt cracked his knuckles.

"Don't do that!" Phil screamed.

"Is that rule number three?" Matt asked innocently, his brown eyes too wide, in a way that made you think it was fake.

"No, that's a given! Aggh!" Punk held himself back. "I will kill you by the end of this."

Matt snickered. "Get over it, Punk." He sat on the bed and said, "So, what's rule number three?"

"You stay to your side of the bed," Phil said. "And your side is not the one near the AC."

"Okay."

"I mean it, if you even think about having the side near the AC-" Punk blinked. "Wait. Did you just say okay?"

"Yeah," Matt shrugged, "I like being a little warm at night. You can have the AC."

"You're cooperating?" Phil said, this incredulous tone. "You're not arguing with me?"

Matt shook his head. "It's not so weird, actually. I don't exist to bug you, Phil. We just have various dissenting opinions. This wasn't one of them." He looked around for a minute, ignoring Phil's continued bewilderment. "So, what do you want to do today?"

*******************

Even though Matt and Phil still hadn't gotten to an agreement on who was the girl in the relationship was, the charade went pretty smoothly. In the room, Matt openly annoyed Punk, but around Colt, they acted as close as Phil's rules allowed. And Colt pretty much brought it.

Colt, however, had his own ideas about the two, even without the charade. He'd have to be deaf not to hear them yelling sometimes, but he was sure sexual tension was the thing to explain that away. Besides, Matt pretty much told him all he needed to know that first day, before he used his shower.

They spent the whole week trying to find out more, trying to find loopholes or something that could free them, but to no avail. The only loopholes they could exploit was killing Matt, which was out of the question, and Phil not ending Jeff's career, which they could only do by staying away. And they couldn't run away forever.

On their fifth day there, Colt suddenly brought up the idea of going out to a club or something. Phil and Matt exchanged a glance before Punk said, "No thanks."

"Come on; you can't coop yourselves up in this house all day!" Colt argued.

"What about my hand?" Phil asked, holding up his cast.

"You'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, we just don't want to be recognized; we're on vacation, you know. Unauthorized vacation," Matt added.

"Right." Colt got silent for a moment, but then his face brightened. "We could always disguise you guys, you know."

"What do you mean, disguise?" Phil asked. And, about three hours later, he got his answer.

Phil looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, pulling his fingers through his newly-blond tresses. He laughed, turning around and fully admiring it. "Colt, this kicks major ass," Phil said, "I don't even recognize me."

"And that's the point." Colt ran his hands through his now electric blue hair. "I've wanted to dye my hair for a while now; you guys just gave me the perfect excuse." Colt peered out of the bathroom, looking for Matt. "Hey, you joining us in here, starshine?"

"No!" Matt shouted out, somewhere out of Colt and Punk's sights. "It's weird."

"Come on!" Punk left the bathroom and, soon, he came back, a newly red haired Matt in tow. Colt let out a low whistle, and Matt blushed. "What's the problem?" Punk asked, "It's temporary."

"Why couldn't I get the blond dye?"

"I called dibs, that's why," Punk said, sticking his tongue out.

"You look great," Colt said, patting Matt's head, "Look at you; your hair is awesome! Just be glad I didn't go with the green." Matt cringed at the thought of having green hair, and then turned around, trying not to throw up at the sight of his red hair. "You can wash it out tonight," Colt snickered, "For tonight, you're a redhead."

Soon, the three of them were in Colt's car, headed to a club. Phil looked around appreciatively, just taking in the sights of his city. He didn't want to ever forget this place; it was good to be home. Maybe sometimes it was better to just return home sometimes, to go back to simpler times. Doing random idiocies. Hanging out with Colt and all his other friends. Life was a lot easier before he decided to chase the dream.

They got to the club and went inside, no one hassling them. The fast techno beat left no one in their seats for long, and soon, all three men were just dancing with random people. Soon enough, Matt and Punk both forgot their issues, the danger they were in, and just danced.

Colt grabbed Punk and pulled him closer, dancing nearby him. Phil grinded into him, laughing as Colt grabbed his unbroken hand and waved it over his head. Colt then grabbed Matt and pulled him over, making him dance with them. After a while of bumping and grinding, Colt moved away, leaving Matt and Phil to dance alone.

Phil and Matt kept dancing, unaware that they were alone, just caught into the music. Suddenly, it hit Phil, and he looked up at Matt. "I really am sorry about everything," he said, "I mean, you are annoying, but... I never wanted this."

"I know, Phil." Matt pulled him closer and said, "Last year, I snapped. I was tiring myself day after day. Vince had me working on all three shows, fighting big guys like Manu and Kozlov while I was supposed to be defending my title, the brightest spot of my career. I was at the breaking point, and still, I was Jeff's second. Even when Jeff only wrestled on Smackdown, even when Jeff wasn't champion, I was still the other Hardy. Everyone made sure I knew it too; John and Mike threw it in my face every chance they got-"

Phil kept listening, transfixed, unable to take his eyes off of Matt's face. His dark eyes had a touch of sadness to them, and it was all he could do not to stop him from talking, to try to ignore the sounds. "And then he won the championship, and it was clear. I would always be second fiddle to Jeff. And Jeff just kept rubbing it in- I know he didn't mean to, but he would always cut me off when I'd talk to people to show off his belt or something like that. I couldn't take it anymore, especially after all I gave... especially after almost giving up my soul for him. I snapped."

"I did things, terrible things. Things I regret to this day. I hurt my little brother, body, heart, and soul, and I could never take that back." Matt forced a smile. "That's how I knew about you, Phil. I saw through you. You weren't bad, just a little jealous and out of control. And very annoying."

"I'm not annoying," Phil shook his head, "Matt, how long have you been carrying this regret?"

"I wanted to turn back after the stretcher match, but I told myself, if I had enough good matches against Jeff, I could have my chance at the title." Matt scoffed. "Look how well that plan turned out. In the end, I hurt him, all for nothing. Because I was jealous and because I was selfish-"

"We're all a little selfish sometimes," Phil said. They were quiet for a moment, and it seemed like the music was gone. it seemed like everything was gone except him and Matt, standing here, two people united by fear, selfishness, concern, and jealousy.

Phil put his healthy hand on Matt's neck, pushing his face down to his and pressing his lips against Matt's. Matt remained unresponsive for a moment, but then he wrapped his arms around Phil, pulling him closer. Phil's tongue pushed against Matt's lips, and Matt opened for him, meeting with his own tongue.

"Whoo-hoo!" Matt and Phil broke apart, seeing Colt return, a grin on his face. "Might want to keep it chaste, boys, it's barely ten!"

"I'm going to get a drink," Matt said, going to the bar. Phil didn't say anything to him; he just grinned at Colt, beckoning him over to dance. Once Matt came back, it seemed Phil wanted to do dance with everyone but him. Two hours later, they still hadn't had any contact except the occasional bump.

Once they got back, Phil went to the shower, not sparing a word for Matt. Matt collapsed on the bed, wondering why the hell Phil was giving him the cold shoulder. Phil kissed him. Phil broke his own rules. Matt was just playing along, after all, they were supposed to be lovers; he couldn't just push Phil away.

But there was more to it than that, and Matt knew it. It was at the edge of his mind, tugging, trying to find a way to make sense in Matt's mind.

The door opened, and Phil came out, his hair back to it's natural form. Matt stared at him until finally Phil said, "What?"

"You kissed me," Matt said, "If I remember correctly, that breaks rule number two."

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Then why did it happen?" Matt asked.

"I don't know!" Phil shouted, "I don't know, I just- you looked sad and we were dancing close and it just happened, okay? Forget about it."

Matt stood up, something deep inside pushing him on. "What the hell did you want, Phil? What, wanted to make the charade look more real? Wanted to shut me up? Give me a reason!"

"I don't have one," Phil answered, holding his ground, "Damn it, Matt, it just happened. It means nothing; get over it." Matt shook his head, unable to believe that Phil had no explanation. He left the room, walking to the bathroom instead, leaving Phil with his confusion.

When Matt got into the bathroom, he finally had an explanation. The revelation came out of nowhere, just slicing through Matt's brain and staying there, not allowing him to find any peace. Phil Brooks may have been the one to initiate it, but Matt Hardy kissed him back. And Matt enjoyed those few seconds, fused to Phil, holding him close. Somehow, he actually caught feelings for Phil.

Matt pushed his head against the wall. "Mother fuck," he whispered, clenching his fists together.

**Reviews Deeply Appreciated**


	13. Failure

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

Matt woke up before Punk the next morning, crawling out of bed without waking the Straightedge Superstar. When he came back from the bathroom, Punk was already asleep, and Matt welcomed the reprieve from the issue at hand. How could he have possibly fallen in love with Phil Brooks, especially considering their history? How did he go from protecting his brother from Phil to falling in love with him that quickly?

Matt went to the living room and went to Colt's computer. He went to the browser and decided to look up news about Jeff, anything he could get without asking someone. If there was anything that could get his mind off of his issues with Phil, it was definitely his little brother.

He looked on , and stared at the screen, confused. He knew that Summerslam had recently passed, but he had no idea that Jeff would actually compete in it. He thought that Jeff would be given a few days off because of his disappearance, not that he'd be made to defend his title.

He clicked the link, and saw that Jeff defended his title in an over the top battle royal, and that he defeated all fourteen of his opponents. It read like a whose who of the Smackdown roster: Kane, Chris Jericho, the Great Khali, Rey Mysterio, John Morrison... and Jeff beat them all. Sure, the Undertaker choke slammed him after the match, but still, the fact that Jeff threw at least half of them out of the ring impressed and stunned Matt. He couldn't believe that Jeff was doing so alright, that he was smiling for the cameras and posing even.

_Isn't it a little awful, that you think he should be down in the dumps? _But Matt didn't want Jeff upset; he just thought that, especially after the call he made at the hotel Punk first brought him to, that Jeff would be a little more upset about his disappearance.

"He doesn't care about you." Matt's skin crawled and his eyes widened, recognizing the voice right away. He heard steps coming closer, and then a voice, "Poor Matthew. To sacrifice everything for someone who cares more about belts and accolades than you."

"...Azazel," Matt managed to get out. Azazel laughed and turned Matt's chair around, making the Carolinian look at him.

"Has it really been that long, Matthew?" Azazel said, once again contorting Adam's face in ways it shouldn't go. He put a hand on Matt's face, making him look into his eyes. "It feels like just yesterday we first made our deal. Has it really been a decade?" He squeezed his cheeks, the vice grip becoming painful around Matt's face, but the position of Adam's hands didn't allow Matt to make a sound.

"I've waited so long for this day," Azazel said, turning Matt's face to the sides, looking at his profiles. "You have no idea what you're in for, do you?" He pulled Matt off the chair and threw him to the ground, Matt's shoulder hitting the ground with a thud. A moan finally escaped Matt's lips, making Azazel chuckle.

"Get up," he ordered. Matt gritted his teeth and stood up, knowing that trying to get away wouldn't help. He looked at Azazel, who grinned. "You want to hit me, don't you? But you know how futile that is. You remember what happened the last time we met, don't you?" Matt kept the memory from breaching his mind, but Azazel said, "Come on. When I found out how you wormed your way out of giving me your soul. You have to remember."

"I won't thank Phil," Matt snapped, "You'll never get Phil's soul, no matter what you do to me."

"You want to get down to business?" Azazel said. He grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him closer, nails digging into Matt's arm, almost feeling as if they were digging down to the bone. "I wanted to dispense some pleasantries first, catch up... but if you'd prefer to start things now, we shall." His other hand grabbed Matt's hair, pulling it back, before leaning over his ear.

"You have no idea how persuasive I could be," Azazel whispered.

A loud crash snapped Phil out of his sleep. He got up and opened the door, hearing a groan fill the house. He moved forward and, suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder. Shocked, he turned, ready to fight, but he found himself face to face with Colt Cabana, who was holding a bat.

"What was that?" Colt asked.

Phil took the bat with his good hand, thinking of how Matt wasn't in the room. He hoped Matt wasn't over there. "I'll find out."

Phil started moving quietly, and Colt, thinking about Phil's injury, hissed, "Punk!" Another crash filled their ears, making Punk ignore him; all he cared about was making sure Matt was alright. He turned the corner and saw Matt on the floor, motionless, with Adam- Azazel- standing over him, watching him with unshakable interest. Matt's eyes flicked over Phil, and his face, filled with anger, fear, and rebellion, told him to run. But the face just made Phil want to save him more.

Phil moved forward and, with as much force as he could muster, thrust the bat at Adam's head. He was sure he would hurt Azazel at least a little, give Matt time to run, if anything. He definitely didn't expect what happened next.

Azazel, like lightning, turned around and grabbed the bat in mid-thrust. Phil stared at him, shocked, before trying to pull it away, but Azazel snatched it as if he was taking it from a child. Then, all Phil could see was stars, feel warm, red, sticky liquid oozing from his body.

"Phil!" Phil heard both Colt and Matt scream out his name, but he couldn't do anything but fall to the floor. Spots filled his eyes as he saw the bat sticking out of his stomach, somehow impaling his body as if it were a blade. Matt tried to crawl to him, but Azazel kicked him back, onto his bottom. The last thing he saw before fading was Matt's frightened face, eyes filled with nothing but despair.

* * *

"I don't give a damn if he's in the hospital, let me in!" Phil's eyes opened slowly, the voice piercing his eardrums. Phil opened his eyes and realized he was back in the hospital. Two officers were walking around the room, and a doctor was standing next to him, in front of a curtain. He sat up, surprised at how easy it was. He put his hands on his stomach and realized that there was no hole in his stomach. He looked into the gown and saw his stomach was just like it was before.

He blinked, looking at his hand. It, too, was perfectly fixed. He studied it, trying to find the breaks Ken Anderson made, but it was perfectly healed. "Phillip Brooks?" The doctor said. Phil looked away from his hand to the cops, and he said, "We have a few ques-"

"Let me in!" Phil looked passed the doctors to the door, seeing an officer restrain Jeff Hardy. Jeff pushed at him, and the officer said, "He's in care-"

"Like I give a fuck! Make him tell me where my brother is!" The officer pushed Jeff out and closed the door, muting Phil to his argument with Jeff. He could see that Jeff was angry, though, ready to attack him.

_He can't... not Matt... he's got Matt..._

"Where's Colt?" Phil asked.

"Who?"

"Oh, Scott Colton," Phil said. The doctor nodded, and he moved the curtain aside. Colt was asleep on the other bed, unmoving. "Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded. "You're both physically fine. Mr. Colton is just unconscious." Phil nodded, and he said, "My question's have more to do with what happened. The blood found on Mr. Colton and yourself was your own, but you are both physically unharmed. What happened?"

"I don't know," Phil groaned. He put his hand on his forehead, deciding to feign pain and amnesia. "Oooh god." He remembered how he selled his eye injury a while ago, while very real, not very painful, and he did all the same motions. Luckily, the doctor found it convincing enough, face filling with concern.

"Are you alright, Mr. Brooks?" The doctor said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Phil shook his head, groaning again. "I'll get you some water- just relax, it's probably from whatever stress you went through. We'll try this again after you rest some, okay?"

Phil laid back down as the doctor went from some water. The police in the front, he knew, were here because they suspected him of kidnapping Matt. And now Matt truly was gone, and Phil had no idea how to find him. How did Azazel find them? How did Azazel do what he did to him? What did he do to Colt?

Phil just felt like disappearing. He failed. Matt was gone. He fucking failed him. "Shit," Phil said, tears welling up in his eyes. He would get Matt back, no matter what the cost. And for that, he knew what he had to do.

Somehow, he was going to beat this rep. He was going to go back to Smackdown, and he was going to reclaim number one contendership. And then, he was going to take the belt and end Jeff's career; he was going to complete his deal.

_Oh God Matt, please, please be okay. Please, survive. I'm so sorry that I failed you, that I pulled you into this in the first place, but please, survive. Let there be time for me to save you. Please Matt, please be alright. I'm going to save you._

_Oh God, I love you Matt... please be safe..._

**Reviews greatly appreciated...**


	14. Exoneration

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers**.

* * *

Scott Colton woke up in a hospital bed, his hand shooting straight to his head. Images of earlier popped into his head, but they couldn't be true. It couldn't be true. Things like that didn't happen, especially not...

He blinked, remembering the bat that poked through his best friend's body. Blood all over it, Punk's blood, and what looked like his entrails were hanging on the tip of the bat. The hand curled around the bat, the one that somehow impaled Phil, was, even more scarily, a human hand. Edge's hand.

He remembered Punk falling to the floor, and then Edge... fucking Edge, a fucking human being... turned to him. The rest was blurry, but the pain almost still resonated through his body. Reminding him about the beating he took. He could sort of recall his back slamming into a wall, and looking into Punk's glazed eyes...

Scott bid away the images and decided to stand. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on, and he needed to find out if his friends were alright. Everything that seemed to make sense didn't anymore. He needed some sort of explanation.

It surprised him, how easily he got back onto his own feet. He expected to have some trouble, but was greeted by none. More questions filled his head as he moved, questions he had no way of answering. He only hoped Punk could illuminate something.

He pushed back the curtain and found Punk, staring at the wall. Colt watched him, just taking in the true anguish on his best friend's face. For a while, he just silently stared, but then he said, "So, your visit wasn't just a couple's vacation, was it?"

Phil didn't even turn to look at Colt, his eyes still trained on the one spot. "Matt and I were never together."

"Well, don't I feel stupid." Colt walked over to Punk's bedside, getting closer to him. He still didn't acknowledge his friend's presence. "I mean, it's not like you can trust me. I'm just your best friend."

"It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

"You don't want to know." Punk sighed, and finally looked at Colt. "I messed up really badly."

Colt paused, unsure of what to make of what he was saying. "Punkie? Buddy, what's going on?"

Punk opened his mouth, unsure of how to answer, but he was going to try. Colt deserved some kind of explanation. However, before he could try to, the door swung open. The two Chicago natives looked up and saw a lone police officer close the door. "Mr. Brooks, we need to speak to you."

Phil stood up, knowing that he'd have to think quick to somehow keep himself from jail. If he got arrested, he wouldn't be able to see out the deal... and who knows what could happen to Matt while he was wasting time in some prison cell... "Look, I did not kidnap Matt Hardy. I swear, I..."

"We know." Phil stopped talking, the interruption ringing in his ears. He stared at the policeman blankly as he pulled out a pad of paper, ready to write everything Phil said. _We know._

"What?" Phil asked quietly.

"Well, you were our main suspect at first, but then a friend of Mr. Hardy's came forth with a voice message. In Mister Hardy's own voice. He said that he was afraid someone was trying to hurt him after the incident with the dog, and that you were helping him hide. We wish you and Mr. Hardy came to us before deciding to run off, but you haven't done anything against the law." The officer pulled out a pad. "We were just hoping you could tell us a bit about what you knew. Who attacked you, where he might've brought Mr. Hardy..."

Colt looked from Punk to the officer quietly, just taking in every word exchanged, while Phil tried to make sense of what was going on. Matt didn't have a phone. They agreed not to call anyone. How would a friend have Matt on his voice mail giving him a...

He shook his head. He had time to worry about that later. Right now, he had to play along with the fortunate twist so that he could get out of here and focus on getting rid of Jeff. On getting Matt back. _Just hold on, give me time, I'll get you out of there. Hold on Matt._

"Matt and I didn't know anything," Phil said, the lie coming out easier than anything he's ever said, "All I knew was that someone I cared about thought he was in trouble. So, I helped him. We threw away anything we thought could help people find us and we drove off. We stood in a couple of places before I suggested hiding out with my friend Colt... Scott Colton. We were there for a week before this happened."

He looked to Colt, and Colt recognized the look well- it was when Phil was in trouble, and he wanted him to corroborate a story. Colt nodded automatically, years of being friends with Punk telling him what he needed to do. "I wanted to help out a friend," Colt said, "So when they came, I let them in. Phil explained everything to me, about Matt's stalker- I just wanted to help."

"Neither of you are in trouble, Mr. Colton," the officer assured him, "I just want to see what we can do to help Mr. Hardy." He scribbled some stuff on the pad. "So, neither of you saw your attacker?" Phil and Colt shook their heads. "At all? There's nothing you could give us that could possibly help?"

"If we could, we would," Phil said quietly, "I want him back more than anyone does, officer."

The officer nodded, and he placed his hand on Phil's shoulder. "Son, I must warn you. Although you're not in trouble with the law, many people still think you had a hand in Mr. Hardy's disappearance. One has already threatened violence." _Jeff_, Phil sighed. He should've known he'd have to deal with that. But it would just make Jeff eager to come after him, eager to feud... so Phil could do his end of the deal. "So, don't hesitate to call us if one of them decide to take the law into their own hands."

"I won't," Phil nodded, but the last thing on his mind was misguided idiots. No, this was more important. He wasn't worried about anyone who thought they were helping Matt. He was the only one who actually could help him, and that was what was important.

The officer handed Phil a card, telling him he could contact him personally if he needed to. Phil nodded and pocketed the card, his mind on the last conversation he had with Matt. _"Damn it, Matt, it just happened. It means nothing; get over it." _The last thing he told Matt was a complete lie. If he had another chance, he would've pulled Matt close and told him everything. Matt would've never had to question what that kiss meant. He would've known.

"Phil..." Colt started, but Phil interrupted him. "Could you find out when we can check out of here? And if you can, try to make them make our check out as close to now as possible."

"Phil, what's going on?"

"I'll explain later. Just, please Colt. We need to get out as soon as humanly possible."

Colt bit his lip, wanting to push further, but finally just sighing. "Fine. I'll trust you, but you have to be up front with me about everything from here on in. Agreed?"

Phil nodded. "Thanks for everything, Colt."

"No prob, Punk. I know you would do it for me." Colt held up a fist, and Punk bumped it with his. Colt smiled weakly, trying to reassure Punk, but it seemed Phil was beyond any kind of comfort. Colt left quietly, hoping that doing as Punk asked would help soothe his friend a little.

Phil went to the phone in the room, his own plan in his mind. If all went right, this could happen in under a month. He just needed Jeff to agree (which shouldn't be too hard), and to run it by Vince (which would be easier).

The phone rang three times, but then a familiar what filled his ears. "Mr. McMahon?" Phil said, putting on his cocky, holier-than-thou voice, "Mr. McMahon, it's Phil Brooks." He let the man scream a little, about how he couldn't just walk out when he was number one contender and what not, waiting until he calmed down. Finally, a gruff "What the Hell do you want?" filled his ears.

"Mr. McMahon, we have a few things to talk about." It seemed so dumb now, especially since Matt was at Azazel's mercy, but it was the only thing that could happen. An obsession that became Phil's burden. "The first being my title."

"Your title? Brooks, you have some fucking nerve..."

"Wait, Mr. McMahon. Hear me out before you trash it." Phil could feel a fake grin forming on his face, his whole body playing the role he needed to play. "After all, this could be exactly what you need to attract big ratings."

He could practically hear Mr. McMahon's greed flare up. "Alright. you've got two minutes. And it better be good."


	15. Challenge

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

He wasn't welcome in the WWE locker room. He'd have to be blind not to see it.

Those who didn't shoot accusatory looks at Phil were too busy whispering behind his back to have the sack to say a word. People thought they knew everything, and this was no exception. Men and women Phil once thought of as reliable coworkers were all firm in their belief that, even if Phil didn't kidnap Matt, he had a hand in his disappearance. Why else would he have bought the duct tape? Why else would he have thrown all their electronics on the side of the road?

The questions were valid, but still. No one wanted to hear Phil's story. No one cared.

He wished Colt was with him. He promised he wouldn't be far, opting to stick around the venue in case Phil needed him, but that was too far for Phil. He wanted support, especially since he was on the track to finishing his deal. Losing his soul.

Colt didn't exactly understand the whole deal/soul/demons thing, but he tried. He listened, trying to rationalize it, and eventually accepted Phil's explanation. He trusted Phil, and he saw enough to make him suspend his disbelief for a while. When Phil told him the plan, Colt didn't like it- he looked half ready to suggest they find a different way, one that didn't involve Punk giving up his soul- but he went along with it. He promised to help anyway he could.

Phil didn't deserve Colt. He should've never got him involved in this nonsense, but in a way, he was glad he did. He couldn't imagine doing this alone.

He shoved on his last boot, walking out of the locker room towards the entrance. He was ready. He could do this. All he had to do was go out there, say what he had to say, and he was pretty sure he could get a match at Breaking Point. An appropriate match, an I Quit match. After all, the loser was the one who says 'I Quit', and that would be their last match ever.

Phil wasn't bothered that there was a chance he could lose. The chance was too small. Jeff didn't know submission moves like he did. And he wouldn't allow himself to be tied to a table. No, there was no way Jeff could beat him.

When his music hit and he hit the entrance ramp, he was pretty shocked by the reaction. There were a chorus of boos, and a few scattered 'You suck's... but for the most part, all he could hear was applause. He had no idea they cared that much about him as a wrestler.

He pulled out the mic he was given, speaking as he walked to the ring. "Cut the music, cut the music!" He could hear the song switch off as he made his way through the ropes, walking to the middle of the ring. "Now, I don't know what you heard, and I don't care. I'm not here to explain my absence. What I'm here for is to claim what's mine." He turned to the ramp, no longer addressing the crowd, but the titantron. He couldn't hear Ross and Grisham, but he could imagine what they were saying. About him, about the perfect hero Jeff Hardy.

"Jeff, I had a match at Summerslam, yet I was unable to make it due to... _familial _obligations." He put emphasis on the word familial, hoping it would rile Jeff up more than he already was. "I deserve my match, I want my match. Now you're going to come out here and..." He was suddenly cut off by Jeff's entrance music, but he didn't mind. It made him smirk, because Jeff was coming out, and he had no doubt how this was going to go.

Jeff appeared at the entrance ramp. There was no face paint. There was no dance, there was no chatter with the crowd. He didn't slap any hands, he didn't throw any clothes. Jeff was more serious than Phil's ever seen him, the anger evident on his face. "You know, that's a funny coincidence, Punk." Jeff marched down, speaking while he walked, his eyes never leaving Phil's face. "Because I was thinking how much I'd like to get my hands on you." In moments, Jeff was in front of him, barely any space between their two bodies.

"I was thinking how much I'd like to rip you to shreds. For what you did? You want a match, it's yours. I'll happily beat you up."

Punk just laughed, picking up his mic again. "You know Jeff, it took guts to get down here and face me. What did you take? Painkillers? No need to lie, we all know that you don't have the inner strength to do it alone..."

"You have a point, then get to it!" Jeff snarled.

"Why yes, I do have a point, and that's just it. You're a loser. You're a pathetic, drug addled loser, and I'm going to prove it to you and to everyone in attendance at Breaking Point. We're having an I Quit match." Jeff smiled cruelly, the idea of destroying Phil until he managed to say those words was enough for him to say yes. But Phil was sure that Jeff would like his next suggestion even more. "But it's not an average I Quit match, oh no. Whoever quits, _quits. _Not just the match, but the WWE... they quit wrestling _forever._ I don't want to see your face anymore, Jeff, and if these lowlifes weren't so addled with alcohol and prescription medicine, they'd say the exact. Same. Thing." The chorus of boos was near deafening, but they didn't matter. No one else mattered besides Jeff.

"So what do you say, Hardy, you willing to put your career on the line" He wasn't sure if he'd be able to say the next thing, but he had to. He needed Jeff to hate him. He needed Jeff to hate him enough to say yes to such an offer. "or are you unwilling to now that big brother's not around to clean up your messes?"

There was no time to react. The tackle was too sudden, and next thing Phil knew, he was on his back. Punches rained down on his face as he lay there, under Jeff, stunned. Finally, he managed to get his bearings, twisting and turning around with Jeff and exchanging blows until security managed to pull them apart. Phil was pushed to one side of the ring while a group of guards attempted to pull Hardy away.

Jeff looked like an animal. He didn't seem to care about anything anymore except destroying Punk. He shoved his arm out of the security guard's hand, glaring at Punk and shouting, "You're on!" As he walked to the back to his music, the crowd went wild for him. They really loved Jeff Hardy. Phil couldn't help but wonder the reaction when they saw him quit in front of thousands.

About three weeks from then, Punk would have Jeff in Montreal. Punk would make Jeff _quit _in Montreal. And then, everything would be better. Matt would be back. Jeff would, one day, be happy, even though he wouldn't be in the WWE. He'd have his brother back, and Phil Brooks would never bother him again.

Three weeks wouldn't pass fast enough.

* * *

Scott Colton couldn't explain the kind of unease he had, watching the arena Smackdown was taking place in. There was a lot he didn't understand about this situation, but he figured if he understood it any better, he'd like it less. Phil insisted it was the only way but Scott didn't feel that way. There had to be a way to save Matt without giving away Phil's soul. Phil didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even believe in souls. How could you sell something you didn't even believe in?

Scott had no idea what he believed. He was Jewish by birth, he grew up Jewish, but he would never call himself a devout Jew. Years of ignoring the Sabbath and missing temple made every practice he'd learned as a child fade out of his mind. His mind wasn't on the afterlife, it was on life. It wasn't on God, it was on friends. It wasn't on worship, it was on _passion. _For what he did every day he breathed.

He didn't think too much on religion and spirituality, angels and demons and souls and things like that. And now that he was confronted with it, he honestly had no idea what to do or how to do it. He'd support Punk as best as he could, there was no doubt about that, but he didn't know if it would amount to anything. For the first time in a long time, he found himself wanting to pray. To whom, he didn't know. But he wanted to pray, for guidance, and for hope.

A knock on the window broke him out of his thoughts. He opened the door, letting Punk in. He didn't even notice the fans pour out of the arena. "You okay, Colt?"

"Not really, but I'll live. You?"

"Same." Punk smiled at Colt, but it looked hollow. Empty. He was anything but happy and they both knew it. "Do me a favor, Colt."

"Anything."

"Tell me it's going to be alright."

"Everything's going to be alright, Punk." Colt didn't mean it. He didn't know anything other than they were in a shitty situation, and Matt was in a worse one. But he'd say it. For his best friend's sake, he'd say it.

"Thanks." Punk leaned back against the seat, and for a moment, Colt could swear he looked older than he normally did. He blamed himself, and it a way, it was his fault. But he had been manipulated, just like many others were apparently. Colt couldn't bring himself to fault Punk. He made mistakes, but he was human, and he was doing his best to make up for them.

As Colt pulled out of the parking lot, the only thing he could think of was that Punk deserved forgiveness. And Colt would stand by that statement no matter what happened.


	16. The Match

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

He lost track of time. Could've been ten minutes, could've been twenty. Maybe even more. All he knew was that he and Jeff Hardy had been going at it for a long time, and he still refused to quit.

Phil had waited too long for this match to come. He couldn't relax at all the past three weeks. His mind was either on Jeff, on mangling him in the ring and somehow getting him to say the words "I Quit", or on Matt. He wanted to know if he was okay, but Adam was nowhere to be seen, so he couldn't get anything out of him. All Phil could do was guess what was happening to him. And after what he'd seen guys like Ken Anderson do, and what they did to him, his imagination was making up worse and worse things for Matt's fate.

_Hold on Matt. Just a little more. I just need a little more, and you'll be okay again._

Jeff must've been just as impatient as he was, because he wasted no time. He didn't even wait for the bell to ring. He automatically began attacking Punk, fists flying, hurting him as much as legally possible.

No matter what Punk did, Jeff still hadn't quit. But he didn't mind; Punk wasn't going to quit ever, so all he had to do was continue chipping away at Jeff's resolve. Jeff would be the one to quit soon enough.

But even under the bottom rope, Phil pulling his arms back until his back bent over top of the rope, Jeff hadn't an ounce of quit in him. He gritted his teeth and shook his head every time he was asked if he wanted to quit, only opening his mouth to let out screams of pain. He moved his head to the side, trying to squirm out of the hold, but Phil held tight.

"Say it!" Punk screamed, but nothing came out of Jeff's mouth. "Come on, say it!"

"Fuck you!"

"Say it!"  
"Fuck! You!"

He wouldn't be able to hold him for much longer; he needed something to put him away. He needed something to make Jeff quit. He needed to save Matt, before it was too late.

He slowly eased off of Jeff; he needed something else. Jeff stood against the ground, breathing, rolling slowly out of the ring. He slumped against the canvas, taking deep breaths before creeping under the ring. He used his arms to pull himself under, hoping to find a weapon, but Punk slipped down to the floor, grabbing his ankles tightly. He tugged as hard as he could, dragging Jeff's half hidden body out of under the ring. Jeff started kicking his legs, twisting and turning and doing whatever he had to to pull away from Punk's grasp. He managed to kick his legs against Phil's chest, pushing him into the black divider.

After a moment, regaining his presence, Phil pushed against the wall, using it to regain some momentum.

He was running on adrenaline, and he knew it. Even as he tried to stop him from crawling under again, he knew every bone in his body would ache when it was all over. But he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

As he dragged him out this time, it took more energy, and he soon saw why—Jeff was hanging onto a ladder, the sound of the metal dragging against the floor filling Punk's ears. He tugged hard, hearing a shout spill out of Jeff's mouth as he tried to pull himself away from Punk. Finally, Punk won out, dragging Jeff out to the floor. Jeff's hands let go of the ladder, red from his attempts to keep himself under the ring, when his legs were split and a boot dug into his bag. Children in the front row were screaming at Punk, but his attention was completely on Jeff Hardy.

_Do it. Now. The Vice._

Punk recognized the voice perfectly. He turned around, scanning, trying to find Adam—Azazel—whatever his fucking name was. It was barely a whisper, but he could still hear it over the roar of the crowd. He let go of Jeff's legs, spinning around, screaming out Azazel as loud as he could.

_Don't be an idiot, Phil. Do it now. Put him in the Vice now._

"Where are you?" Punk shouted. "Where are you?"

Jeff started to move, struggling to rise up onto his knees. He couldn't understand why Punk stopped attacking him, or whom he was yelling at, but he was grateful for the distraction. He just needed enough time to rise onto his feet and form a counterattack.

_You will win. Your deal will be complete. Put him in the Anaconda Vice._

"Show your fucking face…"

_Put him in the Vice._

"Face me like a fucking man, get out here…"

_Do it NOW!_

Suddenly, Punk was tackled face first to the ground. He let out a grunt as he hit the floor, cursing himself for allowing himself to be distracted. He didn't have enough time to ponder his way out of it before Jeff grasped a handful of hair, smashing his head down against the floor. He did it again, and again, each blow making it harder for Punk to keep his attention on the match.

He started bucking wildly, moving until he was able to unseat Jeff. He rolled on top of Jeff, returning the favor by grabbing Jeff's hair and hitting his head repeatedly until he was as out of it as Punk thought he was going to be. He hit his head on the ground before letting go, getting up to his feet.

_Don't hesitate._

Punk brought his boot to Jeff's side, and the satisfying choking sound that came out of his mouth made him do it another time. And another. He wasn't going to be satisfied until the only movement Jeff would be able to make was to speak two words. I Quit.

The ref moved closer, ready to hold a microphone to either of their mouths, seeing how Jeff could hardly move. And Punk knew it was his time. He didn't need Azazel's voice to support that, but there it was, prompting him.

_Do it now._

He went to the floor, setting up the Anaconda Vice quickly. He put as much pressure as he could on Jeff, eliciting a scream from Jeff's mouth. The ref put the microphone by Jeff's mouth, watching the young man shake his head, waiting for him to either break out or yell the words.

Then, there it was. Almost as if he couldn't help it, as if he were purging something from his system, he shouted out, "I quit!"

It was too sudden. It didn't feel right, and Punk knew it, but he didn't give a damn. It was his music playing. It was Jeff who quit. As he was handed the World Heavyweight title, all he could do was smile… he did it. He was champion. His deal was finished.

He snatched his hand out of the referee's before he could hold up his hand in victory. He didn't have time for it. He was going to find Azazel, force the asshole to tell him exactly where Matt was. His soul would come soon enough, but he knew that he was no longer important. It was too late for him. It was Matt's safety that mattered.

"Where?" He screamed out, sure that Azazel could hear him. He kept walking towards the back, not a care for the gold in his hand, the screaming fans… anyone.

_Go to Jeff's hotel room. Matt and I are waiting._

Punk waited impatiently for Jeff, pacing in front of Jeff's dressing room. He'd only taken time to change; he didn't even shower. He knew he must've smelled like shit, and he was okay with that. He considered calling Colt, he did promise him that he'd be on the up on everything, but he knew that from this point forward, the only thing Colt could do was watch. And he wanted to protect Colt from Azazel as much as possible. And that meant leaving him waiting for a call that would never come, a friend who would never return.

It saddened him, knowing that, earlier, when Colt wished him luck before the match, it was the last time he'd ever see his best friend. They didn't spend enough time together. Phil didn't get enough time to live.

He wished for a do over, but he knew it was impossible. He just had to deal with the cards in his hand. It was mostly his fault anyway.

Finally, Jeff arrived, his hand on a towel on his head. His face looked empty. Punk couldn't help but feel sorry for a man he'd considered an enemy for so long. "Jeff," he called out, his voice soft. He couldn't help it; while he thought Jeff deserved a great many things, but nothing like this. He might've been an epic screw up, someone who abused chances, someone who would abuse _this _chance… but he was still a human being. And no one deserved this kind of hell.

After looking through Matt's eyes, he wasn't even sure if the other things were even true.

"What do you want?" Jeff said. He sounded defeated, like he had nothing left inside of him. "Haven't you taken enough from me…?"

"I can get Matt back to you," Punk said immediately, interrupting. Jeff's eyes widened; hearing Matt's name was enough to make him pay a little more attention.

"Anythin'. How? Tell me how to get him back, I'll do anythin', but if you hurt him…"

"I didn't hurt him, I was just trying to… you know what, that's not even important now." Phil shook his head, getting back on track. "Take me to your hotel room."

"But why…"

"I can't explain it now!" Punk shouted, "Okay, we just need to get there. Come on."

Jeff stared at him for a moment, assessing the offer, but there was nothing he could do. The chance Punk was giving him was the only chance he had. And he was going to take it. "Alright. But if this is a trick, or if I find out you did somethin' to him…"

"No tricks. I promise."

They stared at each other for a moment, but then Jeff nodded. He had no other choice but to trust Punk. There was nothing else he could do but hope that he was being truthful. And even if he wasn't, Jeff would fight him tooth and nail until he got the truth. No ring this time, no care for the law whatsoever… if Punk was fooling him, then he'd do whatever it took.

"Alright. Let's do this."


	17. The Deal

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own the following wrestlers, or any of the events that actually happened on camera, or anything else mentioned that is recognizable.**

**I respect the actual beliefs and sexualities of the following wrestlers.**

As more and more people filtered out of the venue, Scott pulled his phone out, looking at the screen of his phone for the time—and for the possibility that, in his anxiousness, he missed a call from Punk. He couldn't help but grow more worried as time flew. Phil should've called him by then. Phil should've been there already.

"Shit Punkers," he whispered, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He couldn't stand still; he was pacing next to his car, filled with restlessness and fear. If all went according to Punk's plans, then this would be the last night he'd see his best friend. He understood Phil's reasons, and knew there were no other feasible options. But it still sucked, seeing Phil pay the ultimate price for his mistakes.

He missed him already.

The parking lot began to clear. More cars were driving out, and the empty spaces just served to scare Colt further. What was taking so long? Punk should have…

Clarity hit, finally making Scott freeze. He knew CM Punk better than anyone, and he almost hated himself for not realizing it sooner. Punk should've been there already? Scott should've known he was never going to come.

"Fuck. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck..." He punched his car hard, trying hard not to tear. Right before Punk went inside, Colt hugged him, wishing him good luck. And that was the last thing he'd ever tell Phil Brooks.

He pulled out his phone, dialing Punk's number. He put it to his ear and, after three rings, he found himself listening to Punk's voicemail. Right after the beep, without a hesitation, Colt said, "You fucked up, Brooks." He leaned against his car, feeling weak. There was nothing he could do, and he hated this powerless feeling. "You should've… you should've come to me. You didn't think I wanted to be there? You didn't think I wanted to say _goodbye?_" He stopped, no longer able to yell at him. He was aware of what was going to happen, and he didn't want that to be the last thing Punk ever heard him say.

"Good luck Punkers." He took a breath, but it wasn't enough to calm him. Still, he rambled. "We'll see each other again sometime. There's gotta be an afterlife, right? If so many people believe in it, it must be real. And I'll get you a Pepsi, and this… this will be behind you. And then, you and Matt can be happy, and we can all be happy. I know it. So this is goodbye, but it's not _really _goodbye, okay? This is just see you later."

He forced himself to hang up, staring at the phone again. He thought about calling the police, but then he reminded himself that they couldn't do anything either. They never did anything to help Phil and Matt.

He finally put his phone away again, sighing. "I'll see you later, Punk."

* * *

For a long time, there was only silence. The radio wasn't on, and Jeff and Punk didn't speak to each other. Neither of them looked at each other, just at the road. Jeff was driving, quickly but nothing that would call unwanted attention to them. All they had was a silent trust, relying on each other because there was no one else to rely on.

Suddenly, as Jeff impatiently stopped at a red light, he spoke. He didn't even look at Punk as he said, "You didn't kidnap him, huh?" There was more faith in the statement than anything; although Jeff didn't want to trust Punk, and the story seemed odd, he was willing to keep his mind open if it meant saving his brother.

"No. I was trying to save him." Punk also didn't look at him. It wasn't necessary, and his mind was on something other than in that car, right then and there.

"From what, exactly?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me." Jeff nearly growled out. He wanted an explanation for the pain, what could've possibly happened.

"You won't believe me."

"Try. Me."

Punk sighed. If Jeff wanted to hear it, well, he could hear it. He didn't care at this point whether or not anyone believed him. After all, his life would end soon enough. What did it matter if Jeff fucking Hardy thought he was insane for those last minutes?

"I made a deal with a demon," Punk said, "For the belt, for getting Matt out of the way so that I could ruin your life, for making Matt thank me for doing it. I didn't think it was real. But it was… and the demon has Matt."

"A deal with a demon," Jeff echoed. Punk couldn't tell what Jeff thought about it at all; the words were just spoken plainly.

"Yeah." Punk nodded. He felt no need to expound on that.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care if you do. It's what happened."

"Don't joke with me," Jeff warned, "This is serious."

"I am serious. I wouldn't joke about that right now." Punk tapped his fingers against the door, before saying, "Fuck, how far away are you staying?"

"I'm getting there as fast as I can!" Jeff snapped, "You think… you think this is some type of game to me? Matt's my _brother! _No one takes this more seriously than me!" They both kept silent then, digesting every single thing that was said in the past few minutes. Punk stared at the window, at the buildings they passed by in the darkness.

"Jeff."

"_What?_" Punk could tell that Jeff was on the edge. He was tense, seconds away from breaking.

"It's Adam." Jeff finally looked at Punk, confused. "The demon's Adam."

"Adam's not a fuckin' demon…"

"He is. He has Matt. He's the one who offered me the deal, all that for my soul."

"We know Adam, you jackass, I know him. He's anythin' buh…" Jeff trailed off. His mind went back to a month ago, to Adam comforting him. To him saying he would do whatever it takes to get what he wanted, about Adam saying that he could help him.

_"No, I could. I mean it." Adam sounded so confident that Jeff met his eyes, confused. "Well? Do you want my help or not?"_

"Adam can't be a demon," Jeff shook his head, talking more to himself than to Punk, "No, I…"

_"How could you help me?"_

_"Want to find out?"_

Jeff blinked, before saying, "We were… jokin' around. That's all. Adam was comfortin' me. He's not a fuckin' deal makin' demon." But he had no idea how Punk could've known about their joke. Jeff didn't tell him, and he was sure as shit Adam didn't tell him.

"Joking around?" Punk looked over at Jeff, his mind catching up with everything Jeff said. There was no fucking way. "Then that means… you didn't."

"I didn't what?"

"Tell me you fucking didn't!" Phil shouted, "Fuck, Jeff, did you make a fucking deal?"

"It's not real!" Jeff shouted back, but he no longer sounded sure.  
"It's very fucking real, okay?"

"I can't have sold my fucking soul to _Adam_, okay?" He was getting more frantic. He knew facts. Deals and demons weren't real. But everything seemed to fit. And Phil seemed to be on the up with him. "Okay? I didn't. It's impossible."

"What did he promise you?"

"What…"

"WHAT DID HE PROMISE YOU?" Phil screamed. Jeff stared at him for a moment, before finally answering.

"Hold the title longer than a month," he said quietly, "Find Matt. Beat you up. And I wanted… some order in my life. Everything seemed to be falling apart and I wanted some kind of order."

Phil was about to yell at him more, but then he remembered the things Matt said about Jeff. The way he said them. The amount of sadness Matt talked about him with, about how he hurt him and how Jeff was truly a good person. He softened, trying to have sympathy for Jeff… especially since Jeff made the same mistake that he did. They both didn't understand how serious what they were getting into was… they both didn't realize that they were selling their souls.

"It's hard to take him seriously, right?" Punk said, "At least until you realize he's legit and he'll kill a dog to prove it."

"That couldn't be Adam."

"It was Adam. Or… Azazel. Whatever. It was him." Jeff took a left turn, and Phil saw a hotel coming up to their right. "That you?"

"Yeah, that's me." Jeff was stuck in his own mind at that moment, going over everything he was told. He couldn't believe that, not of Adam. Not of his friend.

He didn't know what to think anymore.

* * *

Matt woke up.

He blinked, looking around the room. He was on a bed in a hotel room he didn't really recognize. All he knew was that he had a piercing headache, the pain making it difficult to focus.

"Can you feel them?" Matt looked for the voice, and he saw Adam—or Azazel, that is—standing by the door. Staring at it as if he could see past the wood paneling. The last thing he could remember was being at Colt's apartment, seeing Punk with a bat through him, and he couldn't help but wonder how long ago that was. He tried to remember, but his head hurt too much to focus on what happened. "I can. They're both coming soon." He lifted his hand, laying it on the door, studying it. "I never meant to stay so long around here. Adam has such a… fragile body. So injury prone. I was going to leave him behind after collecting your soul and find a stronger body, more valuable souls."

He turned around, facing Matt. "Your kind are so quick to sell their most valuable possession for a moment in the spotlight, a second holding the belt. It's much more fun to watch a strong soul reluctantly sell out than to take a bunch of weak ones. Ken, Candice, Brian… all of them… weak."

"Then why did you stick around?" Matt asked, the spite coming out of his mouth. His friends weren't weak, no matter what this man said. He caught them at a weak moment, but they weren't weak.

"Because you cheated me," Azazel replied evenly, "And today, I get what's mine."

"I'm not selling my soul!" His headache immediately lashed out at him for his outburst, making him cringe in pain. He brought his hand to his head, trying to get his bearings. He could hear Azazel laughing at him.

"We'll see, won't we?" Azazel turned back to the door, waiting. As soon as Matt could bring himself to speak again, he asked the one question on his mind for a long time.

"Why us?"

"Excuse me, Matthew?"

"Why us? You said we were weak, so why did you come to the WWE in the first place?"

Azazel laughed. "Give a bunch of humans one Satanic gimmick, and they'll read anything to prepare for it. Heck, maybe a couple of young blonde Canadians will get their hands on an actual incantation, try it out for kicks. Next thing you know, you're inside of some kid who calls himself Edge, and you think… it would be cool to see who you can pick up before you go back to some bigger fish."

"All an accident," Matt said, thinking about how not only the current situation, but Azazel being around his friends in general started because his friends were just playing around.

"Or fate," he suggested. He unlocked the door, as if someone was coming closer. "It's a shame, Matthew, but it's a simple fact that I've gotten more souls over the past decades because people _didn't _believe rather than they did."

The door opened, and at the door, Matt could see Punk… and his brother. "Matt!" Jeff shoved past Azazel, running straight to the bed. He threw his arms around his brother's neck, hugging him, just glad to see that he was presumably in one piece. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Matt held his brother close, staring over to Azazel, wondering why Jeff was in the room. Meanwhile, Punk was at the door, staring at Azazel. Azazel just smiled, stepping out of his way, allowing him to enter. Punk kept his eyes on Azazel as he walked in, hatred shining through his eyes, before walking towards Matt and Jeff.

He stopped before getting too close, allowing the brothers to have a moment. All he knew was that he could see Matt, and that was enough for him. It didn't look like Azazel hurt him, and it made him sigh in relief.

It took a long time before either man remembered he was in the room. Matt looked up from his brother's shoulder, looking at Punk. "How long?"

"A month," Punk replied.

"A month…" Matt closed his eyes for a moment, wondering what could've happened in those months, or why he didn't remember. "And Colt?"

"He's fine," Punk promised.

"Your hand…"

Punk raised the once broken hand, clenching and unclenching it. "I'm 100% now."

"Not to break up this beautiful scene here…" They all turned to Azazel, who was smiling widely. Jeff pulled out of the hug to glare as well, prepared for whatever may happen. "I believe I have a deal that needs finishing up right now." Punk nodded. It was time to finish this. He turned to Matt, looking at him pleadingly.

"Matt, thank me. Thank me for getting rid of Jeff…"

"No," Matt said, half because he couldn't believe that this moment has come, and half because he wouldn't let Punk lose his soul.

"Matt—"

"Oh no Brooks, we'll get to that." Azazel's eyes were focused on Jeff. "Right now, it's his turn."

"What's he talking about…?"

"No," Punk said, "No, this is about you and me, remember…"

"Who said that?" He grinned at Jeff. "You see, you owe me something, don't you?" Jeff's body shivered; he could feel his whole body turning colder for some reason.

"Jeff, what's going on?" Matt asked, growing more worried. Jeff's face was twisting with pain, and neither man was sure what was causing it.

Phil looked back at Azazel, screaming, "What're you doing?"

"His deal's done," Azazel said, "I held up my half… now it's time he holds up his half." Jeff leaned forward, but Matt caught him before he could fall off the bed.

"Jeff!" Matt screamed, and suddenly, he could hear his brother choking. "Azazel, stop it!"

"It'll be done soon." Jeff kept choking in Matt's arms, the only things keeping him from falling onto the floor. Until there was not another sound. The coughs just suddenly stopped. Matt pulled Jeff back up, and his eyes were closed.

"Jeff?" Matt laid him down on the bed, putting a hand to his neck, looking for a pulse. There was one, but it didn't change the fact that he was cold. Too cold. Something was wrong.

"What have you done?" Phil screamed.

Azazel just kept calm. "I took his soul."

Matt's eyes widened, and he stood up off the bed. His head was pounding, but he could ignore the feeling for Jeff. "No! This had nothing to do with him! You can't!"

"I did." He stepped closer, towards Phil and Matt. "It wasn't too hard. He got what he wanted… I got what I wanted.'  
"But you didn't want him!" Matt moved closer, past Phil. Punk kept his eyes on Matt, prepared to back him up should he need it. "You don't want him, or Phil, you want me!" He stepped forward again. "Don't do this, please, don't do this…"

"Your brother's body is going to do my bidding," Azazel said cruelly, "My every whim. He'll chase down people who dare to run from me…"

"Please!" Matt screamed, and Phil could feel his pain. At that moment, he would do anything to take it away. "Please, don't do this, don't…"

"While his soul feeds my power," he finished, not changing his countenance. "Your brother will be my little slave…"

"No, _please_…"

"You know what I want," Azazel said, "You always knew." He looked at Jeff's body. "I'll give your brother his soul before it's too late." He looked at Phil, smirking. "I'll break my deal with him as well, and I will leave the WWE alone forever. You know what I want."

"No!" This time, it was Phil's turn to scream. "No, fuck you motherfucker, you're not…" Matt grabbed Phil's arm, stopping him.

"Punk, please." No more screaming. There was only a calm in him. "You came here ready to sacrifice yourself, didn't you? To save me.'

"Yeah," he said, "But no, Matt, you can't."

"This is the best thing possible," Matt said. He sounded resigned. "This way, he'll leave you and everyone else alone forever." He stepped closer to Phil, throwing his arm around him. "Thank you for trying." Matt pulled away, but then Phil grabbed his arm, pulling him back towards him.

"No," he said, "Matt, there's got to be another way."

"I'm a big brother, Phil. I have to. Same way you were going to sacrifice yourself for me, I have to do it for Jeff. And for you."

Phil could hear the sense, but that didn't mean he liked it. In fact, he hated it. But this was unfortunately the best way. Phil leaned in, pressing his lips to Matt's quickly. To show him that he did care. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He put his hand on Phil's shoulder, managing a weak smile. "I'm sorry too."

"Why?" Phil asked, "You have no reason…" Matt moved his hand away, before turning towards Azazel. He walked towards Azazel, stopping before him, and it took everything in Phil's power not to stop him.

He could hardly hold himself back, but somehow, he managed it.

"Hey, Azazel. Let's make a deal."


End file.
